


Varying Degrees of Blood and Water

by ElricLawliet



Series: Baby AUs [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Fluff, Kids AU, LATER, SO MUCH FLUFF, and STEAMPUNK SUBMARINE ADVENTURES, more characters tags and relationships may be added later, the lads are kids awww
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElricLawliet/pseuds/ElricLawliet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoffrey Ramsey fell hard after the war. He thinks he's pretty good at taking everything in stride though, or at least until he finds that bundle of small human on the back steps of the church.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Is that what I think it is?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by[ this beautiful au](http://someoneudontknow5.tumblr.com/post/115955398278/i-had-a-few-aus-that-i-didnt-feel-were-worthy-of). Man, someoneudontknow5 has the _best_ AH stuff.

Geoffrey Ramsey grunted as he hit the rough cobblestone street, rolling onto his side to glare blearily at the burly shadow blocking the dimly lit open doorway of the bar.

“And stay out, Ramsey, for the last time,” the owner hissed. “You show up here one more time without a penny for a pint, I'll have the constable on you.”

He slammed the door, leaving Geoff to pick himself off of the wet ground.

“One whiskey,” he muttered. “I just wanted one glass of whiskey.”

He rubbed his now-sore shoulder, wandering down the road and cursing the barkeep in his head. One would think an ex-captain of her Majesty's army would get more respect than that, but apparently service to the country didn't matter to business owners unless you got rich off of it. He sighed.

“Another night at the church it is,” he murmured.

He took the back alley ways. It wasn't as convenient at night as it was during the day, when people making their way through the streets made it hard to maneuver, but it was his comfort. He knew the alleys of London like the back of his hand, and it was easier to lose people in the maze should any of the shop owners actually make good on their promises to send the police after him.

He approached the steps of the church's back entrance, eyes flicking over a bundle wrapped in green cloth. He tucked his hands into his coat pockets, fingers closing reflexively on empty air. Right, he'd smoked his last cigarette in the early afternoon. No alcohol, no nicotine. The night just kept getting better and better. He snarled, slamming his foot into the side of a trashcan.

The green bundle on the steps jerked, and broke into wails.

Geoff jumped, nearly screaming himself. He jumped up the last stairs to stare down at the thrashing bundle with slack-jawed shock on his face.

“Aw, fuck.”

A baby. Someone had left a baby on the back steps of a church.

The child sniffled again, wailing out another sob. Big fat tears slipped down his cheeks, and before Geoff had quite registered what he was doing he had the bundle in his arms, rocking gently. It didn't immediately stop the blubbering, but after a few minutes it started to die down. Geoff looked up, glancing around to try and find any trace of whoever had left him here. The alleys were empty, no shadowy silhouette of some mystery woman disappearing around the corner. Whoever had left him had done so before Geoff had even arrived, perhaps long before.

He found himself wondering when the kid had last eaten.

He looked down at the now half-asleep baby in his arms. Now that his face wasn't scrunched up with tears and screaming, he could see soft blue eyes and a tuft of blond hair. Geoff had never understood why people called babies cute; the way he saw it, they were loud, needy things and he had never met one that hadn't been crying.

Now that he had, he began to see why. It also left him to wonder, who would leave a baby out here, and why would they do it? There had to be laws against this sort of thing. Baby protection laws. Well, it had been on a church...

He idly reached to wipe a stray tear from the child's cheek.

“...Well, have at them. If they won't take care of you, I will.”

He looked back up at the church. It would be interesting, explaining to the father where he'd found a baby. He didn't think he'd mind, considering he'd saved _him_ the trouble of taking care of it, but it was still an interesting conversation to be had. And he would help him, churches always had things like food and milk and blankets for new mothers. He shifted the baby more carefully into one arm to push open the back door.

The chapel was empty, the lights dimmed for the night.

“Father Gus? Hey, Gus! I need some help please.”

He waited for a moment as there was a loud thump, and a bit of stomping, and the head priest of the church appeared in the arch leading the upper back floors of the church, fixing his collar.

“Geoff? You're later than usual. And here I'd thought you might have actually managed to why is there a baby in your arms.”

Father Gus Sorola stared down at the child in Geoff's arms. He was fully asleep now, tiny hands clinging to Geoff's jacket.

“Please tell me you didn't find him on my doorstep. It'll be the third this year.”

Geoff frowned. “Uh well, the bad news is that is actually exactly how I found him. On the bright side, that means he's mine now!”

Gus looked up at him sharply. “What? Yours?”

“Well yeah. I mean, if his mother doesn't want him, I'll take him. What, you want me to leave him at one of _Great London's_ already overcrowded orphanages?”

“That's what I usually do, Geoff. I certainly can't take care of them.”

Geoff frowned. “Well, I'm not doing that. What, you don't think I can take care of a kid?”

“I didn't realize you ever wanted to. Captain regularly-get-kicked-out-of-bars-for-scamming-drinks Ramsey. Not the best of examples for a child.”

Geoff frowned. “Look, Gus. I know I might not be the _best_ parent. I don't have a house, or much money, or stuff for like, toys. But I'll love him, and that's what God says to do for a child isn't it?”

Gus hesitated.

“And that's better than what any of those overcrowded, underfunded orphanages can say, isn't it? You really think that any of those orphanage masters would be able to give Gavin the love and other emotional stuff kids need?”

Gus frowned. “Well, I suppose--...Gavin? Really?”

“Look, I said the first thing I could think of. I figured it'd look better if you thought I'd named him already.”

Gus snorted, and threw his hands up. “Alright! Alright, I'll help you. Lord help me, but I'll help you. But you have to make a promise, Ramsey.”

“Anything!” Geoff said eagerly, grinning.

“No more smoking, first of all,” he said seriously.

“Understandable,” Geoff agreed.

“And no more drinking...”

The look of horror on Geoff's face was almost laughable.

“...In excess,” he finished begrudgingly. There was an audible sigh of relief. “I'm not so naïve to think I'll be knocking you of that anytime soon. But at least try to not let...Gavin...see you do it much. And try to preserve your liver long enough to see him become a man!”

Geoff grinned. “Gus, you won't regret this. I can't thank you enough, father! I'm going to be the best father you've seen, ever!”

Gus hummed as he went to prepare some milk for the baby.

“I'll hold you to your word. And come in for more than just a pew to sleep on! Come pray every so often!”

Geoff just grinned down at the sleeping baby in his arms, eyes softening once again.

“Well, Gavin. Guess it's you and me now, lad. And it'll be just fine that way, won't it?”

He almost could have sworn the sleeping child smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at that ending. that corny, corny ending. *proud tears*


	2. The destruction of a perfectly good routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack Pattillo was a man of routine. Unfortunately for him, Life is much less routine-oriented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot even begin to thank people for the comments and kudos and subscriptions
> 
> like wow I was not expecting this to be so well received thank you so much
> 
> as a sign of my appreciation, have a tiny Michael! And a not tiny chapter!

Jack Pattillo was a man of routine. He had been since the war; when even the smallest semblances of order or structure had become necessary for him to stay sane. He had made it past the obsessive stages in the first couple of years after he was discharged, but it was still nice to have a plan for the day; to have at least a relative knowledge of what to expect when he woke up. He liked to keep a pattern, to have a plan. Wake up, start the breakfast pastries, open the shop, work til noon. Break for lunch, get back to work, close at supper time. That had been his system since he had opened his bakery, and he had intended for it to stay that way until it closed.

So he was naturally upset to find that his routine had been absolutely mullered by a midnight burglary.

Jack ran both his hands down his face, nodding as the constable left. Since the coward had struck in the middle of the night, and no one was coming forward as a witness, there wasn't much Jack or the officers could do. With a resigned sigh, Jack hung up his “closed for the day” sign and headed down the street.

This was going to cost him. Not just the amount of money taken—a relatively small amount, considering most of what he kept in the shop was change for costumers—but for the ingredients to replace the goods that were stolen, and front door's lock.

Jack was not easily put into a bad mood. He was known to almost everyone in the area as one of the kindest shop owners in London. He had been known to spot customers who were short a few shillings and to give bread that wasn't sold to beggars. There was even a belief among some that Jack Pattillo did not have the _capacity_ to be put in a bad mood.

That rumor would be thrown out the window by anyone who saw him striding down Main Street that morning. His face was red behind his beard, shoulders stiff and eyes hard, and his steps were heavy; like he was trying not to stomp.

When he stopped outside the locksmith, he took a few deep breaths before heading inside.

Joel Heyman had been Jack's best friend since their childhood, and with an explanation and a promise of a rather sizable discount on the repair of Jack's front door, Joel headed out to his place and left Jack to go replace his lost merchandise.

In a marginally better mood, Jack headed back out in the direction of the grocer. His mind was still occupied, wondering if it would be worth it to employ a constable and try to ask around for witnesses of the crime, and he didn't notice the little figure running towards him until they collided. Jack barely stumbled; the kid didn't come up to his waist. But the boy had to grab onto him to keep from landing on his back—or, that was why Jack thought he had grabbed onto him, until he felt twitchy little fingers try to dive into his pocket.

“Oh no, not today!” Jack spat, grabbing the kid by the shoulders and jerking him away to glare down angrily.

He stopped, blinking a bit. The boy couldn't have been older than four or five, though the brown eyes glaring defiantly up at him from under a mop of unruly, reddish-brown curls held the anger of someone at least ten. He wiggled, trying to run away, but Jack tightened his grip on his shoulders.

“Le'go! I didn' do nothin'!” he yelled, pushing uselessly at Jack's arms.

“Not for lack of trying,” Jack snorted, careful to keep anger out of his voice.

The boy flushed, squirming harder. “What, you gonna turn me over t' the constable? You can't prove it! Let me go!”

Jack ignored him, pulling him out of the way of walkers and crouching down so they were eye level. He kept his hands firmly on his shoulders, making sure he couldn't run off.

“Why did you try to pickpocket me, boy?”

He huffed, turning his face away and avoiding his eyes, and didn't answer.

“Stay silent as long as you want, but I won't let you go until you answer.”

His face scrunched up angrily, and he tried to jerk away again before relenting.

“Well I gotta eat somehow don't I? I ain't gonna starve.”

Jack frowned. “Do your parents not feed you? Do you tell them you go off, stealing strangers money?”

The boy stilled under his hands, and something in his face changed. He looked away again, shoulders shaking under Jack's hands a bit. Jack frowned, feeling his stomach sink when the boy remained stonily silent.

“...Well?”

The boy still didn't answer, staring determinedly at a dirty puddle in an alley.

“You don't have any parents, do you?”

The boy's lips pressed tightly together, and he blinked rapidly.

Jack sighed, grimacing. He had always known that there were kids on the streets; it was a given with how overcrowded the orphanages were these days. But for them to be this young, and to be driven to petty coin-theft just to eat…it made his stomach turn a bit.

“...You said you're hungry, right? I own a bakery. How about I take you back to my shop, and I'll get you some bread and cheese.”

That got his attention. His head whipped back around, staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief.

“What?! You don't mean that! It's a trick! You're gonna give me to the constable!”

“No constable,” Jack promised. “I still have to go to the store for ingredients, and you'll have to come with me for that, but afterwards we'll go back and I'll bake you some fresh. And if I may say, it's good bread.”

He smiled, but the kid still looked doubtful.

“People don' do that. And I just tried to steal from you! I-I mean—“

Jack chuckled. “But, as you said, you didn't. And you won't have reason to if I feed you now will you? Really.”

He squeezed his shoulders, standing back up and pulling his hands away. The boy fidgeted, glancing around but not making a move to run just yet. Jack took that as a good sign.

“I'm Jack. Mind telling me your name?”

“...Michael.”

“Well Michael,” Jack said, giving the kid a warm smile, “let's get going. I've got to get some flower and yeast, and then we can head back to the shop and get your food baking. Does that sound good?”

Michael chewed on the inside of his lip, seeming to think it over.

“...Yeah. Alright, Jack. I'll come with you.”

Jack held out his hand, but the boy crossed his arms tightly against his chest and huffed. Jack shrugged, not really having expected much better, and started off down the road again. Michael followed him, careful to keep his distance if he saw a need to try to run again.

Jack said nothing as they walked, and it was a relatively silent walk to and from the grocer. Jack carried a large bag of flour in each arm, and had trusted Michael to carry the much smaller bottle of yeast. The boy's eyes had grown wide at the mention of the word trust, and the way he carried the bottle now—like it was the most valuable thing he had ever seen, cradled carefully in both small hands—made him wonder if he had ever heard the word used in reference to him in anything but a negative light.

As they came back up on the shop Jack saw that Joel was packing up, just finishing on the door. He stood, looking up as he heard Jack.

“Ah! Jack! And...a small child. ...Um. I finished fixing your door?”

“Thanks, Joel. Michael, this is Joel. He's an old friend of mine, and a locksmith. Joel, Michael is here for some bread.”

Michael looked up at him, scrunching his nose up and hugging the yeast against his chest. Joel stared back at him, frowning.

“Uh, okay. Um. Why?”

Jack sighed. “Because I offered. He's hungry, so I'm giving him bread.”

Joel looked up at Jack, brow furrowing a bit. “Do you just give bread to everyone who's hungry now? He doesn't look like he can pay. This is not a sound business method Jack, I've told you—”

“Thanks for fixing my door, Joel,” Jack ground out a bit stiffly. “I'll pay you for it later. Right now, I really need to start baking, so that maybe I can open shop at _some_ point today.”

Joel sighed and nodded, patting Jack's shoulder and placing a key in his hand. “Whatever you want. Here's the key for the new lock, I'll see you later. And you too I suppose...Michael.”

He headed back down the street, glancing over his shoulder a couple of times before he was out of sight. Jack unlocked the door, holding it open for Michael before heading in himself. He walked around the counter and set the bags of flour down, washing his hands and pulling a flour-dusted apron on.

“Set the yeast up on the cabinet, and sit anywhere you like.”

Michael carefully placed the bottle on the counter, and climbed into a seat where he could watch Jack set to work mixing ingredients. He sat quietly, watching Jack work for a bit before coughing a little.

“Uh...thank ya, I guess. For not, callin' the constable on me. And makin' me bread.”

Jack smiled a bit. “Oh, that's not problem. I've seen enough of the constable today anyway. My shop was broken into last night.”

Michael blinked. “...Oh.”

“That's why Joel was fixing my door, and why I needed to get flour and yeast.”

“Oh,” was all the boy said again.

He looked down at his table, kicking his feet slightly. He looked agitated about something, nose scrunched up like it had been when he was staring Joel down.

“Something wrong?” Jack asked, starting to knead the dough.

“...If you got stole from, how come you're lettin' me have bread now?”

Jack gave a thoughtful hum, watching his dough thoughtfully. “I can't really give you a good answer for that. I'm sure Joel was wondering the same thing. I guess it's just like he says: I have a heart as soft as my stomach.”

Michael snorted at that, mouth turning up in something like a smile before he pushed it back down into that little scowl.

“That's stupid.”

“I don't think so, but I guess I can't stop you if you do. Either way, I wouldn't mind much if our positions were switched.”

He placed the dough onto a pan and slid it into the wood oven, dusting his hands off on the apron and pulling it off. He walked around the counter, sitting at the table across from Michael.

“Now. Do you mind telling me what happened to your parents?”

Michael stiffened, arms crossing tight over his chest again and averting his gaze. Jack waited, but he didn't show any sign of loosening up or wanting to discuss that topic at all, so he sighed.

“Alright. Then will you at least tell me why you aren't staying in an orphanage?”

Michael thought for a moment, before apparently deeming the question harmless enough and uncrossing his arms. He still didn't look at Jack however, keeping his gaze on the wall.

“...I was for a bit. But…it ain't good there. There's too many kids, and the master couldn't watch everyone. And he wasn't good neither. When the big boys got mean, he just said it was 'cuz they were bigger, and that we'd be mean too when we got bigger.”

He glared more at the thought of the orphanage master, scowling at the wall.

“He was a bully. So one night I took all the money I could find and I ran away.”

Jack sighed. He had known most orphanages were overcrowded these days, but to hear something like that was another story.

“...And you've been on the streets since then? How long is that?”

Michael scowled again. “I don't fuckin' know! Can't be too bothered about timekeepin' when I got to fight for my next meal!”

Jack raised his hands. “Alright. No need for the language, boy. Well Michael, how about this.”

He paused, thinking over his wording before deciding to just cut right to it.

“You can live with me.”

Michael's head snapped back to look at him again, eyes going huge.

“...You can'...do that! You can't do that! Why would you do that?! What are you plannin'?!”

He jumped out of the seat, looking about ready to make a dash for the door. Jack quickly stood, placing his hands on his shoulders to stop him.

“Calm down, Michael! What's got you so upset? Don't you want to be off the streets?”

“No! Well—yeah, but, but it ain't gonna happen! Not this easy! Not to me!”

Jack blinked. “What do you mean not to you? Would it be more believable if I asked another homeless boy to live with me instead?”

Michael looked torn, biting his lip. “...People don't just...do that. They don' do nice stuff. Not to boys like me. Street rats.”

He shifted under Jack's hands, glancing at the door.

“No one's got a reason for me. I'm worse, see, worse than a lotta boys. And no one just gives stuff to me, not unless they got a reason for it. I know it, I know you're lyin'!”

He glared up at Jack, and the man was surprised at the amount of venom behind it.

“...Michael, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't have any plans. I just want to get you off the streets. You're too young to be living like this, pickpocketing for your next meal.”

“I'm not the worst off! There are kids younger than me! I'm not a baby!”

Jack sighed. “What if I gave you a job, then?”

Michael stopped. “...What?”

“I could use some help around the shop,” Jack said evenly, watching him carefully. “Cleaning up, helping advertise...I might even be able to teach you to help me bake, later. I don't have the money to hire an employee...so you help me work my shop, and you can live with me. I'll pay for your meals. I'll get you a bed. Does that sound fair?”

Michael stared up at him, mouth working in the way Jack now recognized as his thinking face.

“...I...I s'pose that's fair...” he finally muttered, finally turning away completely from the door. “If I'm workin' for it, that's a reason...”

Jack smiled, releasing his shoulders again. “Good. Then I look forward to working with you, Michael.”

He looked up at the stove, and moved around the counter to pull the bread out of the oven. The warm smell filled the shop, and he heard Michael sigh behind him. He chuckled, slicing the loaf and pulling out a block of cheese. He put the slices and cheese on a tray, poured a glass of milk, and carried it back over to the table. Michael immediately made to grab it, but Jack grabbed his hand.

“It just came out of the oven, lad. Let it cool.”

Jack turned back around, moving to start making more bread to restock his shop. Michael watched him, nibbling the corners off the cheese while he waited for the bread to reach an edible temperature. Jack smiled a bit, watching the boy poke the bread occasionally as he baked.

There was still a lot to worry about with this boy, and it might not turn out as good as he'd hoped. But right now, Jack could see a little bit of the child's eagerness peeking out from the rough, bitter face he put up. A bitterness that no kid should have, even with a story like that. Jack could tell there was more to it, but he'd pushed the boy enough for one day. If this went like he hoped, he'd have plenty of time to learn why Michael was as angry as he was.

Right now, he could live with what he knew, and a part of him felt like this could be the start of something very, very great.

Even if he also had a feeling that his perfect routine had just been absolutely mullered. Again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If these corny chapter endings become a theme for me, I might scream. I'm not doing this on purpose I swear
> 
> Fun fact, the procedure for catching criminals in the mid nineteenth century was convoluted and overall pretty ridiculous
> 
> In case you don't know, and want a little bit of context for what was going on, in the Victorian-ish era catching petty criminals was left pretty much up to the victim. they would get the help of friends, and like one constable (who was seen as pretty much useless by the end of the era). if they managed to catch them, the trial was done and it was left entirely up to the judge what to do w them.
> 
> poor Jack was robbed in the middle of the night, with no witnesses. He will get no justice.
> 
> but its ok cause he's a dad now


	3. In which life is full of surprises and free bread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff hadn't thought it was possible to question one's own life choices so many times in so few years. But then he also hadn't known it was possible for such a small human being to have that much energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to reupload this because of some issues, sorry if subscribers got a double email
> 
> Ergh, this is up later than I wanted. This week was a nightmare, between finals and my driver's test and some other more personal shit. and I typically take a couple of days to write a chapter, cause my attention span isn't very long, I'm afraid. And then I went and got fuckin sick. Apologies.
> 
> But now the semester is finally over, I have my driver's license, I got better, and I should be able to update more frequently now! Celebration!!

Geoff was seriously beginning to question his life choices.

At this point, he was even beginning to question joining the army. Sure, he'd served his country and his Queen, become one of the most respected military captains of his time (not that that mattered to much of anyone anymore, ungrateful bastards). And sure he'd had a small couple of years of glory before shit had gone down and he'd landed on his ass in the streets. But he never would have ended up on the streets if it weren't for the army, and so he never would have been needing to sleep at the church.

So he never would have found that _little bundle of chaos that was his son_.

Geoff loved Gavin. He really did. But the boy was a tornado given human form, and of course as soon as he saw anything that caught his attention he was off, running in a direction that he had absolutely no business going. Geoff didn't know where he got it. He sure as hell didn't go chasing rabbits in fields, or running to pick pretty flowers, or to splash through a four inch deep creek.

And he didn't really know how to deal with the single person he had ever met who did, besides running after them shrieking “Gavin NO!”

What had he even run off for this time? Geoff wasn't sure, but it was probably something ridiculous, like a mud puddle or something.

“ _Wheeeee_!”

Geoff very rarely disliked being proven right. This was one of those times.

Gavin was hopping up and down, covered from his feet to his face in watery mud. Geoff skidded to a stop, doubling over to catch his breath.

“Gav...kid...”

Gavin turned his green eyes up to him, grinning wide and giggling.

“I's squishy! I' squishes Daddy!”

Geoff groaned. “That's cause it's mud, Gav. Not just water.”

Gavin giggled as Geoff pulled him out of the mud, crouching down and pulling a handkerchief out to start wiping the mud off his face and hands.

“There's puddles everywhere, Gavin. Why do you always have to splash in them?”

“Why don't you?” the boy giggled, face scrunching up as Geoff wiped his cheeks.

“Because it makes a mess, Gavin. And I'm trying to set a good example. To get you to stop. Please.”

Gavin just laughed, and wrapped his arms around Geoff's neck as the man stood back up. He giggled, hugging his father's neck happily as his arms wrapped around his waist and legs. Geoff couldn't keep himself from smiling, swinging the boy a bit.

“Alright, at least this way you can't run off.”

Gavin smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his bearded face. Geoff felt any remaining annoyance melt away, and he smiled back down at him.

“Now. We should be back in town soon. Do you think you can be good until we get there? Since I'm going to carry you the whole bloody way after that?”

Gavin nodded. “Where're we goin'?”

“To a job,” Geoff patiently explained for the twelfth time. “I had someone ask me to do some work for him for a few days. That's why we always go new places, lad.”

Gavin oooooh'd in apparent understanding. Geoff knew he'd probably ask again in about ten minutes.

It wasn't a big job, just moving things into a new shop. The pay wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible either and Geoff had taken to accepting just about anything that would keep he and his son fed for the next week or so. Five years in and he hadn't been able to land a stable job—not for lack of trying, times are hard, as he'd heard from literally every shop owner an contractor in London—but there were just enough odd jobs floating around to keep them fed and clothes that just fit on Gavin's back, and for now he supposed that was good enough. He tried to stick to London for bigger jobs, as Gus was the only person he trusted to watch Gavin while he was away. But work was hard to come by, and Geoff was quite frankly desperate, so this was not the first time he and Gavin had travelled out of town for his work.

There had only been one time that he'd taken a job Gavin hadn't been able to come with him, and had had to stay with Gus for several days. None of the parties involved liked to talk about it.

One hour later, Gavin had asked about their destination three more times and had been shifted up to sit on Geoff's shoulders, and they had finally arrived on the street that housed the shop Geoff had been hired to set up. Gavin bounced excitedly on Geoff's shoulders, squirming to try and hop down. Geoff's hands tightened on his feet.

“Oh no. You're not running off here.”

The boy huffed, pushing his face into Geoff's hair to pout.

Geoff just smiled, walking down the street and glancing around to find the shop he was meant to be working at. A barber's, a rather busy bakery, a print shop...

“Hullum's greengrocer,” he said cheerfully.

“Wot's a greengrocer?” Gavin asked, leaning over his head to try to get a better look at the store cluttered with people carrying wooden shelves and crates of vegetables.

“It's a shop that sells green food,” Geoff said, heading into the crowd to find his new boss.

Matthew Hullum was a friendly guy with a ready laugh and sweet wife who was more than happy to watch Gavin while Geoff got to work. It was pretty dull work, and was only made drearier by the stiffness of the workers that had been promised a bigger pay if they got it done as quickly as possible. The bright side, however, was just that—they finished the job by the time the sun had started to set and when Geoff scooped Gavin back up, the pockets of his coat were several pounds heavier.

He plopped his son back on his shoulders, and grinned as his eyes fell on the bakery that had emptied out now that the evening set in.

“Hey Gav. You hungry?”

“Yeah!” Gavin said eagerly, bouncing up and down excitedly.

Geoff laughed, and carried him into the shop to the shop to the tinkling of the bell.

A little boy with a mop of unruly brown hair looked up from sweeping the floor as they entered, and Geoff was surprised that he couldn't have been much older than Gavin. He blinked curiously, then scrambled up behind the counter and pulled on a small apron.

“Sorry! I thought we were finished with customers until after supper. Can I help you?”

Geoff set Gavin on the floor to let him explore, looking over the blackboard menu with a pondering look. The little boy behind the counter fidgeted a bit nervously as he waited for Geoff to pick something. He glanced around, apparently unsure what to do, and then his eyes widened.

“DON'T--”

He was too late. There was a loud shatter, and Geoff spun around to see Gavin standing over the shards of what looked to have once been a ceramic teapot looking like he'd been caught without his pants.

“Gavin!” Geoff groaned. He didn't have the money to pay for that...

And the boy jumped down with a yell, running back around and shoving himself into Gavin's space.

“YOU IDIOT! I JUST SWEPT AND NOW YOU BROKE JACKIE'S FAVORITE TEAPOT! YOU'RE GONN' MESS UP HIS STUFF DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING YOU GOTTA PAY FOR THAT NOW!”

Gavin squawked, stumbling back and trying to push the boy out of his face.

“It was a bloody accident, I-I didn't mean to--”

“IT DON'T MATTER CAUSE YOU BROKE IT AND IT COSTED MONEY! YOU'RE MESSIN' UP HIS STUFF AN' HE WORKS HARD AND--”

“C-calm down!” Geoff tried to say, lifting his hands in an attempt at placation. His stared wide eyed at the little boy who had gone from polite and carefully worded manners to red-faced and screaming at his son in a matter of seconds.

The door to the back of the shop slammed open, and a frazzled man with glasses and a ginger beard dusted head to toe in flour stood looking around in a confused panic.

“What in bloody hell is going on here?!”

“W-well, my son--”

Geoff broke off mid-sentence, jaw falling slack at the familiar face he'd looked up to. He stared, stammering out a few shocked syllables before managing to spit out a word.

“J...Jack Pattillo?!”

The man stared in confusion. “Y-yes, that's--” Recognition dawned on his face. “...Ramsey?! Captain Geoffrey Ramsey?”

“Jack Pattillo??!!” Geoff repeated again, seemingly not able to get past it.

A wide grin stretched over Jack's face, and in three long strides he had come around the counter with his arms wide open.

“My God, Geoff!”

Geoff let out a short, bewildered laugh as he moved to meet him, arms clapping onto each other's shoulders.

Gavin and Michael had stopped yelling, choosing instead to stare in bewilderment at their guardians. They glanced at each other, obviously unsure quite what to make of this.

“Jack! That's really you? God man, it's been what—ten years now? And you're a baker! I can't really say I'm surprised!”

“Eleven, you must have lost one to the bottle,” Jack snorted, pulling him into an embrace. “But what are you doing here? I thought you said you lived in London!”

Geoff waved a hand. “Visiting for work, I haven't done so well as getting my own shop! But what about you, with the little boy so quick to yell at my son?”

“HEY, HE--!”

Jack put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Michael, lad, can you go get a couple loaves from the back display? Bring the jam and cheese and while you're there,” he winked, “get you and my friend's son some biscuits.”

Michael's vengeful face fell a bit, and he looked torn.

“But Jackie, he broke your teapot!”

“Mistakes can be made, and teapots can be replaced,” Jack chuckled. “And what have I told you about yelling at people who make mistakes?”

“...Not to do it until the third time...” he mumbled, a little ruefully.

“That's right. Now go ahead and get the bread and biscuits, hm? Maybe he can help you?”

Michael huffed, glaring at Gavin before grabbing his arm and starting to drag him into the back of the shop.

“Don't touch anything until I say so!” he snapped, leading him out.

Jack chuckled, waving Geoff into a table and sitting across from him.

“So Captain, do tell! What have you been up to this past decade?”

Geoff scoffed, waving his hand. “Enough with the captain, Jack, it has neither done nor meant anything to me in eight years. We were close enough to call each other by our given names when we getting shot at and we sure as hell are now, so stick with Geoff. It'll confuse my kid less anyway, haven't told him much about that.”

“Speaking of that! No offense meant, but the boy doesn't take much after you. Is there a Mrs. Ramsey I can pester you to introduce me to?”

Geoff's gut twisted, and he suddenly wished he had a whiskey.

“Nah. Someone left the kid on the steps of a church I happen to frequent one night when he was still a baby. I found him before the minister, and decided that he was mine. He's been Gavin Ramsey ever since.”

Jack laughed. “You just pick a baby up off the streets? Don't bother to question it at all? Just 'Well, I'm a father now.' And that's it?” He shook his head. “I feel like I should be more surprised than I am.”

Geoff huffed. “Oh? And what about that boy, Michael? He seemed oddly defensive of you for a simple hire.”

“Well, I consider Michael my own but he'd bite your head of before admitting or agreeing with it. He tried to pickpocket me one day when I went out to restock; needless to say it didn't end up like he'd hoped. Turned out he was an orphan living on the streets, so I offered to let him live with me.”

He smiled. “Now he sells newspapers every morning. When he finishes he comes back here after the rush and works the counter while I bake. He's a good kid, if a bit angry at the world.”

On cue, Michael came out of the back with a basket of several smalls loaves of bread, two knives, a jar of jam and a chunk of cheese. Gavin was walking carefully behind him, biting his lip as he focused on not dropping the smaller tray he had of cookies and milk. Michael pushed the basket up onto the table between Geoff and Jack, then took the tray from Gavin and carried it to another table at the other end of the shop.

Geoff immediately tore into one, famished from his work earlier.

“So then what do you do now?” Jack asked, slicing some cheese and spreading it over a piece. “You said you were here for work?”

Geoff paused, swallowing. “Well...I do odd jobs, I suppose. Whatever is paying, I'm doing.” He shrugged, trying to brush it off.

Jack however, looked alarmed. “You don't keep a steady job?”

Geoff sighed. “It's...complicated, I suppose. Times are hard, and...stuff happened after the war. I may have hit the bottle harder than I should have.” He grimaced.

Jack frowned, glancing back at Gavin. “Does he--”

“I'm not going to go through the process of explaining unemployment to my five-year-old, Jack,” Geoff said, a bit irritably. “He gets that there are people better off than us, but we've also seen kids far worse off than him. Right now, he's happy so long as I don't leave him with Gus too long, and the kid actually likes sleeping outside. Granted, he's never slept inside anywhere but the church, but I'm not going to ruin the vision of something he sees no problem with. I've stopped smoking, I don't drink nearly as much as I used to, and I get work enough to keep us fed and clothed. And for now, it works.”

Jack held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, Geoff, alright. I wasn't going to say anything bad, I promise.”

He glanced back to where Gavin was chattering excitedly to a pouting Michael, who looked distinctly like he didn't want to be there, and smiled.

“He seems happy. You've done well with him.”

Geoff smiled proudly at that. “Yeah. He's a handful, I'll admit that, but if there's one thing I can say I'm proud of now, it's him.”

Jack chuckled. “Handful indeed. Michael may have a short fuse, but even then it's quite a feat to set him off that intensely, that quickly.”

Geoff laughed. “Yeah, I noticed. He's a fast actor, that one. He--”

He broke off, staring in confusion out the window. Jack turned in his seat, just in time to see an ornate, sleek black carriage pull to a stop in front of his shop. A figure in a tailored suit and top-hat, carrying a walking stick, stepped out fluidly. He walked up to the door, pulling it open and stepping inside.

Geoff and Jack both stared, once again struck dumb as yet another familiar face smiled broadly back at them.

“Gentlemen.”

They both stared, Geoff's mouth opening and closing a bit, and Jack was the first to find his voice.

“...H...Haywood?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my my. reunions galore in this chapter.
> 
> for anyone who's confused by/curious about the timeline, Gavin is about five and Michael is six. Michael has only lived with Jack for just over a year, whereas Gavin has been with Geoff his whole life.
> 
> hopefully the next chapter wont involve a two week hiatus. But I got a job, and I start on Sunday or Monday! I'm not sure what the hours will be like though, so I'm gonna try to get as much of the next chapter done in the coming days as I can. c:


	4. The importance of cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot of this story is set in motion almost entirely by the wonder that is fancy cheese.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaaay it's finished. i actually finished this literally right before I left for work today, neato. timing is everything, so it's getting uploaded right as I get home. and then i shower, cause i smell like dog. whoo priorities
> 
> If I can manage to get a chapter a week out that will be great. so there. a tentative hopeful-schedule for updates.
> 
> just a head's up: this chapter has a very mild and vague passing mention of getting sick, and death. It's nothing super big but do remember that all three of the Gents are ex-war veterans, and so not every moment of this story is gonna be cutesy paternal fluff and mystical steampunk adventures.
> 
> also this chapter is a bit text-heavy at the beginning, and I think my style changed, a little?
> 
> also if you want, you can read this story on my [tumblr](http://king-guinevere.tumblr.com/tagged/Jenny-writes%3F%21%21)

Ryan Haywood was a man from an old family with a long history of wealth and influence, so old and wealthy in fact that at this point no one in the family actually bothered to keep track of  _why_ they were indeed so wealthy and influential. Ryan liked to think to himself that his ancestors had come across the money in rather unsavory ways—not entirely unlikely—but then he had his own personal vendettas with his family name, and no amount of expensive parties or gifts or fancy cheeses would cause him to let it go. When he was a child, most of his years had been spent learning how to act—how to hold himself, how to eat, how to talk, how to look—and being paraded around as the Heir of the Haywood Estate. It had been a lonely, boring life in which the most interesting things he had heard of were gossip among his mother and her associates, the likes of which he managed to learn to understand from an inappropriately young age due to the sheer exposure.

He had hated his childhood. And though he would never be able to truthfully say he hated his parents, per say, he was more than willing to admit to himself and anyone who bothered to ask that it was no small amount of resentment he held against them.

Joining the war had been the first defiant act he'd ever made against them, and looking back on it he tended to think of it as the mark of his own new era, and the greatest decision he'd ever made. He wouldn't say he had  _enjoyed_ the war, exactly, but he had gone in hopes of drastically changing his life experience, and he most certainly had.

When he had come home, his parents seemed to have thought he would be like all the other homecoming soldiers, shell-shocked, blank and empty. They had been waiting at the door, ready to welcome him home with gentle hands and tongues with  _“I told you so”_ s right on the tip. But Ryan had gone in expecting, almost even hoping, to see terrible things, to get something so different for the dull, monotonous life he'd been born into. And he  _had_  seen them, he'd seen things that made his stomach twist and empty itself, that had made him laugh and cry hysterically, things that made him  _feel_  in a way nothing had ever prompted emotion from him before. And when he'd walked away with some part of him actually morbidly satisfied, to the rather open disgust of the fellow soldiers who had walked away with visions of bombs and bodies burned behind their eyes; he had also walked away with two names in his head that he could now associate with the word  _friend,_  a word he had never been able to use in his own head beyond theoretically.

And after the war, when he came back to England straight back into the boring gray that had made his childhood, he'd decided then and there that he would be gone as soon as the tide turned once more in his favor. He even had a plan.

Unfortunately, his parents seemed as determined as possible to shatter said plan.

“Mother,” he said, clasping her hand and giving her a smile he certainly hoped came across as long-suffering, “I told you. I am perfectly  _happy_  being unmarried.”

His father cut off his mother's response, waving his cigarette around in a way he  _knew_ Ryan hated.

“You say that, because you simply haven't met the right girl yet! James, my boy, there are so many lovely young women who would break their own heels to be your bride, and you won't even give them the time of day!”

“And if not for them, what about us?” his mother added, reaching up to pat a wrinkled hand to her son's cheek. “Your father and I want to have little grandchildren before we die. And beyond that--”

“You need an heir,” his father finished.

Ryan grimaced. Ah, there it was, the real reason they were so keen to see him wed, arranged or not. Not his happiness, not in hopes that it might curb his rebellious, adventurous nature (though he had no doubt they certainly hoped for that as well), not even really for any kid he might have itself. No, what they wanted was an heir, another little boy they could train to be perfect and proper and to carry on the esteemed Haywood Family Name.

Ryan often had to bite his tongue to keep from announcing that even had he wanted his own child, he wouldn't want it brought into what  _he_  had been.

“I have plenty of time to have an heir, Father,” Ryan said instead. “And plenty of time to find a wife. But right now, I do not want one. I have too many things to do, too many plans I've got for the world unexplored to settle down now!”

“Bah!” His father sneered, lip curling up around his teeth. “You and your  _plans_. We have plans for you too, you know! Plans that will have you succeed, not waste your life chasing 'discoveries' that have already been discovered!”

“Very little of the ocean has been explored, Father. Sailed, yes; but not truly explored! There's could be an entire  _world_  beneath those waves we have yet to see, and if so I intend to be the first to see it!”

His father just sneered again, and his mother shook her head.

“You and your silly dreams,” she sighed, almost wistfully. “I had hoped that you would have moved past them after your tromp out to India, that you would have seen the savages outside of England! Why her Majesty bothers with them is beyond me...”

Ryan resisted the urge to tell them that India had only whetted his appetite for adventure, and that he had been quite fond of everything about the country, besides the obvious slaughter and whatnot.

“The oceans are not India, mother, and I doubt any country could compare! I have the funds, and I've set them aside too--”

“Enough!” his father said, hands slapping down onto Ryan's shoulders and shaking them. “That's enough, James! You have a duty to this family to uphold it's name, and to prolong it! And if you are to ever set about on these preposterous  _adventures_  of yours, then it will be done after you have given us an heir, so that if you get yourself killed the family name will not die with you!”

Ryan pressed his lips together as his mother covered her mouth, glancing between them.

“J-James, dear, don't say things like--”

His father shook his head, sighing. “...Yes, you're right. It will not come to that, because when you find yourself a bride all these delusions of yours will finally be done with.”

He forced a smile that was more a grimace, lifting his hands off Ryan's shoulders to pat them more gently.

“Now go to your chamber and get ready. The Earl Russel has invited you the ball to celebrate his betrothal. I like to hope that he will set a good example for you, but...”

He shook his head.

“Small steps, I suppose. Go prepare.”

Ryan turned and ascended the staircase to his bedchamber while his mother called after a valet to help him dress, still seething silently to himself.

  
  


\---

  
  


Ryan kept to the edge of the ballroom all through the party, as close to the refreshment table as he could be without making it seem as though it were all he came for. Normally he wouldn't really mind what people thought of him, but after his father's verbal lashing that afternoon, he felt he had toed the line enough for one day and resigned himself to sulking inwardly for the night; and sneaking as much cheese as he could between obligatory conversations about the weather and the affairs of people he couldn't be bothered to remember the name of.

Really, fancy cheeses were the only true solace he had in this boring life. So many, all tasting so different and so wonderful. He could right a sonnet about them. Why did people write poetry about women when cheese existed?

As it was, he later decided that no, screw the war, spending the night beside the cheese table was the greatest decision he had ever made. Because where he was standing he could see everyone who approached said table, and it wasn't long before he began to notice that there was more cheese was disappearing from the trays then there should have been. His brow furrowed as he turned his full attention to the table, just in time to a small hand appear over the edge behind it, grab a few squares, and disappear with them back behind the tablecloth.

He blinked, trying to register that. Earl Russel did not have a child as far as he knew, and no one of any standing would bring a child to a party like this and leave it unattended.

Very slowly and very cautiously, like he was trying to catch some rabid animal as opposed to a small child sneaking cheese, he crept around the corner. When he finally saw the culprit he stopped, blinking.

That was  _not_  an aristocrat's child.

The boy was small, and though Ryan didn't know enough about children to put an age to him, he was pretty certain the thinness on him was not typical of a well-fed human. He was a few shades tanner than Ryan, but that also might have just been dirt, and had a messy mop of black hair in need of a good trim covering dark brown eyes. He had a small pile of cheese on the floor in front of him, obviously with no concern for anything else that might have been on that floor, and was shoveling the pieces into his mouth about as fast as he could breathe. Ryan stared blankly at the boy for a moment, at a loss for what to do. He certainly hadn't been expecting a street rat; how had he even gotten in?

He was so busy contemplating that he almost didn't realize when the boy finally noticed his staring, eyes widening in fear as he scrambled up. Ryan acted quickly, stepping forward and grabbing the boy by the arm.

“No, I don't think so, lad.”

The boy squirmed in futility for a bit, before giving up and looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“How did you get in?” Ryan asked calmly.

He swallowed. “...Window...picked the lock...”

Ryan blinked. “...You picked the lock?”

He nodded, looking appropriately ashamed. “...Learned a few winters ago. Gets cold. Usually do it to chu--...uh, but I saw a buncha big tables with food, though' they wouldn't miss a little...an' I like cheese...”

He stared mournfully down at the abandoned squares he hadn't finished on the floor, and Ryan frowned, feeling his heartstrings tug. Cheese  _was_  important.

“Don't your parents have cheese? Maybe not the good fancy kind, but plain cheese is better than none, and it's cheap.”

The went quiet, eyes falling down to the floor.

“...Don't got any.”

Ryan went still at that, grimacing. He...should have suspected as much.

“What's your name, boy?”

He glanced up at him curiously, and maybe a little distrustingly, before looking back down at the floor.

“Ray,” he mumbled.

“Do you have a surname?”

The boy shook his head, and at that a plan started to form in his head. Maybe a slightly selfish plan, but the boy—Ray, he needed to get that in his head—would benefit from it as well. Considering how dirty and underfed he looked, possibly even more.

He slowly set him down. Ray glanced at the window, but seemed to decide that Ryan was either trustworthy enough not to run immediately, or that he'd catch him anyway. A smart boy, Ryan thought, idea cementing more firmly into his head.

“I have an idea, Ray. An offer, if you will, and should you accept it, you would get nice clothes and a bath and all the fancy cheese you could hope for.”

The boy stared at him in mild bewilderment, blinking. “Wha'? Aren't ya gonna turn me over to the cons-a-ble?”

“Constable,” Ryan corrected. “And no, or at least, not if you think of this offer. I assure you, it isn't a bad one.”

Ray swallowed, looking up at him. “...Okay...”

Ryan grinned, crouching down as he explained.

  
  


\---

  
  


It was several hours later when Ryan's coach pulled up to his manor, well past midnight as he climbed out and heading up to the door. Rather than walking right in, he knocked heavily, asking for his parents when the butler answered the door. Minutes later they fumbled down the stairs, still in their nightclothes as they came into the parlor, and were met with the sight of Ryan drinking tea and eating cheese of all things with a small boy, now bathed, dressed in brand new tailored clothes, and hair freshly washed and cut.

His father sputtered, waving his hands as he pushed his spectacles onto his face as though to make sure this was what he was really seeing.

“James!” he snapped. “What is the meaning of this?! Who is this child?!”

Ryan smiled slowly, sipping his tea slowly as he paused dramatically before answering.

“Mother, Father, this is Ray Haywood. And he is my new heir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Ryan's chapter is finally done. Not gonna lie, this is not how I originally intended it, but it ended up this way and I like it. I hope you approve.
> 
> Used an actual earl that was actually alive around the timeframe of when this story is supposed to take place. In looking him up, I learned there was also an Earl of Sandwich.
> 
> And I think that's great.


	5. Strength of will shall--nope never mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan has a way of convincing even the most stubborn of people to agree with him. They never stood a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, I got this done within my week boundary! I was kinda worried that I would be uploading it at like. 11:50 on Saturday.
> 
> I work all weekend, fuck yeah. Money. And dogs. Cause I work at a doggy day care. Score.

Jack and Geoff stared at Ryan's proud form in the doorway, mouths agape with shock. Gavin and Michael looked between their guardians and the well-dressed newcomer, confusion only increasing even more as the man sauntered in and pulled a chair up to sit beside Jack.

“Captain Ramsey, Pattillo. It has been a while, hasn't it?” He chuckled brightly, completely nonchalant as if he had not just dropped in out of nowhere on his two war buddies.

“Uh...hey, Haywood,” Geoff coughed, clearing his throat. “I did tell you both to stick with Geoff when we were discharged, didn't I? I'm not your commander anymore.”

Ryan waved his hand. “Fine, fine. Geoff. In equal trade then, do call me Ryan. This is a social call, after all. No need for formalities.”

“A social call?” Jack repeated, perplexed. “As in you meant to find us?”

“Despite the fact that this visit on my part was entirely spontaneous and coincidental?” Geoff added, raising an eyebrow.

“Funny how that happened, isn't it?” Ryan chuckled cheerfully. “Like fate was on my side. I've been trying to track you down for a couple of weeks now, but you don't seem to stay in one place for long. Pattillo was--”

“Jack, Ryan. Social visit, apparently?”

“--Jack was easy to track down, this little shop of his has made quite a name. I wasn't worried about losing him. You though, Geoffrey, proved quite a challenge to find.”

“I don't have a shop,” Geoff said stiffly. “Or really anything keeping me down.”

“Oh yes, I figured that out after asking around a bit. Don't worry, I don't care; it might work out in my favor, actually. Which--”

“Cut the shit, Ryan,” Geoff cut in. “Get to the point. This is not a purely social visit, no matter what you say. A man doesn't just show up out of the blue after over a decade apart purely for a _social call_. Especially not with what it apparently took to find me.”

Ryan frowned. “I'm insulted, Geoff. You don't believe me capable of wishing to seek out the only two friends I have after a decade apart? Perhaps I thought eleven years long enough. Must I have some secret intention? Do you truly think so poorly of me?”

Geoff just stared him down, raising one thoroughly unimpressed eyebrow.

“...Alright, so perhaps the visit was not _entirely_ for the sake of catching up with old friends, but there is no malicious intention behind it. I simply had an...offer, so to speak.”

“An offer,” Jack repeated, frowning.

“Yes! An offer. An offer from which you have nothing to lose, and much to gain!”

“Ryan, I already have a shop, I don't need a job, though I don't speak for Geoff--”

Ryan waved a hand passively, scoffing.

“Forget jobs, Jack! I have a much, much better offer than simply monetary compensation. I am giving you the offer of a lifetime—nay! The offer of an _era_!”

Geoff rubbed his temples. “Haywood, I know you've always been one for theatrics, but this bush-beating and build up is really just a bit too--”

“I want you two to come with me on an adventure!”

In the following silence, the drop of a pin could have been heard.

“...An adventure,” Jack said, dumbfounded.

“Indeed!” Ryan said, looking about ready to burst with glee.

“As in what? The jungles of, of Africa or _India?_ Are you asking us to bring back elephant tusks and whatnot to sell to the highest bidder? Because I don't know about you, but I had more than enough of India or any jungle to last me a--”

“Of course not!” Ryan said, looking almost insulted. “Plenty of men have been to jungles of countries already discovered. There's nothing left to be found there, or at least, not enough to satisfy me. No, I have much, ehe, _deeper_ plans for us. Something far more rewarding. We are going to explore the _sea_.”

“...The sea,” Jack repeated, sighing. He rubbed a hand down his face, already looking wary and tired. “Ryan, Her Majesty is already well into exploring the sea, our navy is the finest in the world.”

“Navy? Bah!” He scoffed again, starting to look irritated that his two friends hadn't caught onto his plans yet, and were not jumping at the chance he was offering like he seemed to have expected. “Boats! Dull, Jack, very dull; you need to broaden your vision! I do not mean the _surface_ of the sea, oh no. what's to be found on _top_ of water, but the boats themselves and the occasional island. Lord alive, men! Fine, since you seem so unable to see the picture, I will paint it for you!”

He took a deep breath, excitement returning.

“We are going to explore the _depths_ of the sea!”

He beamed, looking from Geoff to Jack as he waited for the announcement to sink in.

“...The depths...of the sea,” Geoff said, nodding. “Hm. Sounds logical. Just how do you suppose we do that, Mr. Haywood? When last checked, I don't believe there was an abundance of breathable air down there.”

“ _That_ is more than taken care of. Worry not your fair heads about that, that is something I have had taken care of for some years now.”

“Oh? Then why has this not come up sooner? Why have you not already left, if you are so eager to go?” Jack asked, crossing his arms and leaning back.

Ryan shook his hand again. “Family matters, which have recently been sorted out. And come now, what good is an adventure without friends to share it with? I would prefer not to go alone, I have no doubt there will be some dull days, and I might go mad without a companion.”

“Under the sea?” Geoff asked, looking doubtful. He scoffed a bit. “To find what, Ryan? A lot of water? Some fish, maybe?”

“This lovely world of ours is over seventy percent ocean, my dear Geoffrey,” Ryan chuckled. “And most parts of it are so wonderfully unexplored that we don't even know where the bottom is. If there is anything of an amazing and wonderful nature to be discovered, it will be there?”

“And what of a malicious and dangerous nature, Ryan?” Jack prodded. “Have you considered that, when you've thought of all the _wonder_ you might find there?”

“I have,” he said proudly. “And I have taken defenses and precautions into account.

Jack sighed again, rubbing one hand over his frazzled beard. “Ryan, this shop is my livelihood, I cannot just up and leave it unattended, for God knows how long.”

“I have plenty of bakers in my family's employment, Jack, who would be happy to run it while you are gone. And should they not bring in as much as your year typically does, I also have the money to compensate that.”

“That's all well and good, Ryan,” Geoff said. “But you seem to be forgetting one very important detail. We have _kids._ ”

He pointed to Gavin and Michael, who seemed to have grown bored trying to keep up with the adults' conversation and had turned to talk to each other as they finished up their biscuits. They seemed to have overcome their initial animosity to one another, though Michael still looked like he was only begrudgingly entertaining Gavin's fast, fumbling speech.

“We can't just leave them in the care of a stranger; bloody hell, Gavin reacts poorly to my going away for longer than a day. I don't want to imagine the hell Gus would go through should I leave him with my boy for longer than a month, or—God forbid—a year.”

“And I will _not_ abandon Michael,” Jack said firmly, jaw set. “The lad has been through enough of that sort of thing already.”

Geoff gave him a curious look, but Ryan only seemed to grin even wider, looking rather smug.

“How oddly coincidental! Again! As it just so happens, I also happen to be in possession of a small child!”

He whirled back to the door, pulling it open and waving one gloved hand at the carriage. The door opened again, and someone hopped down.

It was a small boy, about Gavin's age, with black hair combed neatly and a pair of spectacles only slightly too big for his face. He, like Ryan, was in a tailored suit, though he looked far less comfortable in it than the older man did. He moved to Ryan's side, looking nervously up at Jack and Geoff.

Ryan turned back to the two, beaming brightly as they stared in shock at him.

“Jack, Geoff, meet Ray Haywood. Say hello, lad.”

The boy glanced at his feet, swallowing shyly before mumbling a quiet greeting.

Geoff opened and closed his mouth silently a bit, before sputtering. “Who in God's holy name trusted you with a kid?!”

“Ryan...where did you find him?” Jack said, looking up slowly.

Ryan waved his hand yet again, what seemed to be his go-to gesture whenever someone asked him an “irrelevant” question.

“Why do people insist on asking that? It's of no importance! He is young and small and rather bright, and he likes cheese, what more is there to know?”

“What does cheese have to--”

“Anyway! Ray shall be coming with us, so why not your boys? Really, that would even be preferable! I wasn't aware that you had children when I began looking for you, but it hasn't harmed anything! Now Ray will also have companionship on our voyage, and your boys don't have to be left with a keeper!”

Said boys were looking at Ray curiously, and Michael suddenly slid out of the chair with a biscuit, offering it to the nervous-looking boy. That only seemed to set the brilliance of the idea in Ryan's head further.

“See, they are already hitting it off!” He laughed. “So how about it? Really, what is there to lose?”

Geoff hesitated, but he seemed to be pondering it, watching as Gavin tugged Ray over to the table and began pestering him with questions. It was true, Gavin hadn't really had a chance to make friends in his constant moving and traveling around, as well as parents' insistence that Geoff was “a town drunk”, and not to be associated with. This might be good for him, but it also might be dangerous. Underneath the ocean was vastly unknown, and a couple of books had been written about what mysterious abominations might be waiting underneath.

“I don't know, Ryan...” Jack sighed. “Michael has just started to feel at home here, started to feel like he belongs. Feels like he's needed.”

“And Ray will need him,” Ryan insisted. “And if the boy likes to feel useful, I assure you there will plenty for him to help with on the ship. It's quite a marvel of technology, and I'm sure a smart lad like him would love to see into the marvels of it.”

He may have been going just a bit underhanded at that, coaxing and bragging on Jack's weakness to convince him that this was what was best for his boy, but. There was no harm in it, right? And it was, after all, no lie.

Jack looked at Geoff. “...Well? What do you have to say about this, Geoff?”

“...Ah, to hell with it. It's not as though Gavin and I have much to _lose,_ is it? And he seems to like Ray, I won't deny that, and he could use a friend his own age. A decade is long enough to wander London and it's outskirts, I suppose. Count me in.”

Ryan grinned, teeth flashing white as he clapped a hand on Geoff's arm.

“Glad to hear it, brother! And you, Jack?”

He looked to the other man, hopeful and encouraging.

Jack looked between the two men, then to his charge who was playing nicer with Gavin and Ray—or at least Ray, he still looked rather distrustful of Gavin—than he'd seen him play with any of the neighborhood children he'd so far met. He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I suppose I can't trust you two to be alone with two children. Somebody with a margin of sense needs to come along.”

He gave Ryan a wry smile.

“I'll come as well.”

Ryan laughed triumphantly, pulling the two up in a fond, tight embrace.

“Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Then come, come—it's getting late, and if we want to make it back to the manor by midnight we had best leave as immediately. Lock the shop, you can give the caretake I'll be sending to run it tomorrow with any special instructions. The carriage is still prepared, we--”

“Manor? What are you talking about, we have a place here--”

Ryan scoffed again, pushing the two towards the door and waving his hand for the children to follow them. They stood up curiously, following Ray as he climbed up into the carriage.

“No need for that. My home is closer to the harbor than this center shop you have, and a cab will arrive more quickly. I want to be off as soon as we can, I have been waiting for this for far, far too long. Tomorrow we will pack, and prepare, and the day after we will be off!”

He herded them into the carriage, barely giving Jack time to lock the shop doors before pushing him in and climbing in after. He waved to the driver and with a jolt they were off, driving through the city roads.

“Tonight, you will rest at my manor with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so closes the first arc, of reunions and beginnings! I have the base idea for _at least_ two more arcs, and possibly a third. Plus a mini, epilogue-esque arc. I'm also hoping that from here on I'll have chapters longer than my current average of a little over 2,000 words. I'm using this story as--what I hope to be--improvement and practice for my writing. I like to think I've gotten better. c:
> 
> Anyway uh. Please, do feel free to comment. Seriously, there is nothing more amazing than seeing what you guys have to say about my story. And if you see something that might be improved, especially grammar or flow-wise, feel free to critique too. Like I said, I want to use this for improvement too.
> 
> Also, I may or may not be working on the beginning chapter of a fic for another one of Mathilde's AUs--the beloved Magical Baby AU. Cause who needs self-restraint, right? So, yeah. That might be a thing. Be on the lookout for that, though this one will keep priority. It is way too much fun to write to abandon for another. That's why I put the Homestuck one on hiatus.
> 
> See you next week ~~hopefully~~!


	6. Words are said and butlers are met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of talking happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burn me at the stake. Just fucking tie me to a fucking post and burn me. I'm so fucking sorry. Like I was able to keep that weekly chapter promise for all of like. once before I fucked it up I am so sorry.
> 
> There was a lot of reasons for that, like the entire goddamn world was pitted against me not doing this on time. Jerry (my laptop) decided to be bad so I had to take him to the shop, and now he's okay-ish but still slow and weak (as macs tend to be). My job is great but also exhausting and demanding and wow I have been so tired.
> 
> You can also blame miss someoneudontknow for introducing me to the wonders of Minecraft Feed the Beast mods.
> 
> Guys. Guys there's _so much stuff_
> 
> (and also again i have a mac and ftb is like a super-mod and yeah i wonder why jerry has been slow and problematic I'm not very nice to him)
> 
> But anyway. This week I'm only supposed to be working one day so hopefully, _hopefully_ , the chapter won't take more than two weeks to make it out (again i am so sorry please forgive me)
> 
> but anyway. here it is. almost 3000 words and what i hope is a cute enough end scene to make up for your suffering and thank you for your patience.

Geoff had known Ryan was wealthy. It went without saying; everyone knew the Haywood family name and the Haywood family heir, everyone knew their status and the influence they had with the Empire's governing leaders, even the street rats picking pockets in towns with no real name knew of Haywood. It was one of the reason Ryan joining the army had caused such a stir; what could anyone born into such already abundant wealth and honor gain from throwing himself into the midst of the bloodshed in a country he had no reason to personally involve himself with? The Haywoods were the sort of family that were rumored to take their tea with the Queen herself, who were said to be on first name terms with her immediate family and counsel; they were in that impossibly high sort of nobility that had people try to catch any sort of glimpse of any sort of person that may appear to be coming from their property. Geoff had known this, he had always known this, he had known it before he had met Ryan for the first time, when he had seen his name on the roster of the garrison he had been assigned to lead. He had felt the disdain any worn soldier felt, nose twitched up in mild disgust as he had wondered what one of such _“pure, noble”_ blood was doing in bloody India, of all places.

Geoff knew this.

That didn't stop him from stopping dead when he stepped out of Ryan's carriage, staring up at the manor in slack-jawed shock at the sheer _size_ of the thing. As far as he knew, Ryan had been an only child, the only family he had being his parents, his still barely-breathing grandmother, and an uncle on his mother's side that was the duke of some decently-sized but still irrelevant city to the north.

So why in God's holy name did four people need with all that space? Even servants, personal or otherwise, shouldn't have need of as much space as Geoff was _sure_ they must have in there. It looked like each member of the family might have their very own personal _wing,_ simple chambers be damned. Geoff had had a decent share of nobility he had known in his life—no, he was absolutely _not_ thinking about _that—_ but he was rather sure even the biggest family he had once been associated with didn't have this kind of land.

But if he was shocked, it was _nothing_ compared to Gavin. The boy had a look of wonder and reverence that looked like he was seeing the Pearly Gates themselves, green eyes huge and blinking up at it.

“It's bigger than Uncle Gus's church!” he gasped. “Are we here to pray?”

Michael had a rather similar look of wonder, though it was mixed with equal parts jealousy of a boy who, unlike Gavin, knew how poor off he had been and still was, at least compared to the people that lived here. He looked at Ray with something like a pout, but it was obvious he was trying very hard not to do just that.

“You live _here_?!”

Ray ducked his head, looking a bit nervous again. Both of his new friends were looking up at the manor—and indeed, now him, since Gavin had whipped his head around at Michael's exclamation to confirm that no, this was not in fact a church; and that yes, Ray did in fact live here—with wonder and confusion and the slightest bit of jealousy. Ray found himself wishing that Ryan hadn't brought them here immediately; what if they didn't want to be his friends anymore? He knew these kind of houses weren't normal; he had, after all, spent most of his life up until just a few weeks ago on the streets himself.

And it really was something to marvel at. Four stories high, sprawling out in both directions from the road leading up with perfect symmetry. The far ends of the house could just be seen in each direction, with bay windows that would allow a fully grown man to sprawl comfortably on the window seats. The whole thing was of warm red brick and marble cornerstones, stained glass crafting beautiful murals in some of the larger windows on the upper floors. The yard, however, must have been twice as big as the house, still perfectly lush and green in grass and flowers blooming in full despite the leaves of the trees planted oh-so symmetrically around the yard starting to show the golds and reds of the approaching autumn. It was well-lit even so late at night, street-lamps down the private road and lamps along the walls between every two windows casting the property in a warm orange glow.

Ryan, however, did not seem content to give his guests time to gawk. He never had seen the appeal that his parents did in their obsession with showing off their wealth and besides, they had much more important matters to attend to. It was going on midnight, and the lads had been nodding off in the carriage already (before their wonder at the manor had shocked them at least temporarily back into mostly wakefulness). He could get Ray and his two new playmates into bed (should they share a room? He didn't really know how this sort of thing worked. He had never had any friends to stay the night over when he had been a child. He supposed he'd let Geoff and Jack lead the way in the etiquette of that), and then he would discuss in more detail the plans for their approaching voyage.

He bustled them all inside, and the four guests seemed to only become more shocked and wonderfully impressed by the inside; with its polished hard oak floor and stairs and bannisters, and high ceilings and crystal chandeliers and the young, handsome butler who met them at the door, smiling warmly at them and greeting his master with a chiding.

“Master Ryan, I believe you told your parents you'd be home before midnight tonight?”

“Don't patronize me, Jon,” he scoffed, waving his hand. “It is only eleven fifty-two.”

Jon shook his head, smiling fondly before turning to the newcomers and bowing slightly. He seemed entirely undisturbed by their less-than-impressive attire and general atmosphere, smiling just as warmly as he had at Ryan.

“And you must be the old war friends he has told me so much about. I must thank you, Captain Geoff, for bringing my young master home safely.”

Geoff blinked, startled. “Uh...no problem. Really though, I don't think it was me. Ryan was a pretty decent soldier himself.”

“You're being modest,” Ryan said, “which is unlike you. But again! Enough small talk! Jon, if you will take the lads to Ray's room, perhaps?”

Ray seemed to jump at the opportunity to run over to Jon, and the butler bent down to pick him up with a grin.

“As you wish, master Ryan. I have prepared a midnight tea for you and your guests in the parlor, as per your request.”

“Thank you, Jon. You are the best butler I could ever ask for.”

“I'm the only butler you've ever known, sir.”

“That sure you'd convince us, Ryan?” Jack chuckled, as the butler disappeared up the staircase with his three yawning bundles in tow.

“I was hopeful that you would at least accept the offer to talk further about it,” Ryan admitted. “But never mind that, Jon makes the best scones and they are very good for sitting over and talking about important matters. Such as indefinite voyages and travel preparations.”

“What specific scones he makes,” Geoff snorted.

Ryan didn't bother to grant him what he was sure would have been an equally snarky reply, shepherding them into armchairs softer and more comfortable than any furniture Geoff had ever touched, beds included. Their host poured three cups of steaming tea, handing them out with strawberry scones.

“Now! Onto the matters at hand!”

“What matters, anyway?” Jack sighed, biting into his scone. As a baker, he could appreciate that Ryan had not been exaggerating, these were delicious. “I thought we had been over the details already, at the bakery.”

“Which is why, if we can stop being distracted, this should hopefully not take too much longer,” Ryan said. “I merely wish to reiterate some things, as well as go into a bit more detail about our plans for the next couple of days.”

“Get on with it then,” Geoff pushed, grabbing a second scone and stretching more comfortably in the chair. “I don't usually like staying up to dawn, you know.”

“Pushy,” Ryan chuckled. “Anyway! Tomorrow, I'm afraid you'll have to meet my parents...”

His happy tone dwindled quite a bit, like the horror of meeting two of the most influential “common” people in England was the last thing he wished to bequeath upon his friends.

“They want to meet you, to make sure you are 'acceptably proper gentlemen for a Haywood to be associated with'--”

“Should I just take Gavin and leave while I still have my dignity?” Geoff snorted.

“Oh, don't worry, Geoff. The reputation of the captain who brought me home safe has painted a decent picture of you in their eyes so far, and when I get you into some decent clothes tomorrow and you shave back down to that glorious mustache you used to have it'll help you fit just well enough in that I may not have to deal with my father grumbling under his breath or pulling me aside to question my taste in companionship. Really, the beard does not work quite as well for you as it does Jack.”

“Once again, I've more important things to do than worry about than presentability,” Geoff mumbled, scratching his untamed beard self-consciously.

Ryan just grinned. “After that, we'll finish loading the ship. I've already got a good deal of supplies on board, mostly now it should be getting things for you and your wards, taking inventory to make sure we have everything, and going over what you'll need to know about protocol on the ship. And then, the day after tomorrow, we dive!”

He tossed his arms out in eagerness, beaming once again excitedly as he looked from Geoff to Jack.

Jack blinked. “...Ryan do you even have an idea of where we'll be going?”

“Down!”

“That is not what I meant,” he sighed.

Ryan scoffed, hands falling as he took another scone.

“My dear Jack, if I knew what awaited us, and which directions would be the best to go, I would not have much need for exploring them. This whole adventure will be as new and unexpected to me as it is to you, which is again, the entire purpose of this voyage! I cannot make you any promises beyond what will happen tonight and tomorrow before our voyage begins.”

“Not even a promise of survival?” Jack asked.

Ryan went quiet, looking only the slightest bit guilty and put-out.

“...I can promise you that the ship is as well-prepared for danger as it is possible to make it,” he said firmly, nodding.

“But as you have no idea what awaits us, you cannot promise that will be enough,” Jack said, and it was more statement than question.

“...I suppose not,” Ryan conceded. “But the likelihood of the danger being quite that great is _very_ slim—and I assure you that my promised preparations and fortifications are greater than you are likely to be giving it credit for. It could withstand a blow from the cannons of one of her Majesty's battleships, even.”

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “If that's true, then that...is impressive.”

He nodded. “I can show you in detail tomorrow, when you can see the ship for yourselves.”

Jack sighed. He had already given his word, and he at least owed it to Ryan to see this ship and let him explain his safety measures before backing out already.

“...Alright. But Ryan, please. We have children, and not just Geoff and I. Ray is as important as they are, and you owe it to him to keep him safe as well.”

Ryan scowled slightly. “I am aware of the responsibilities of raising a child, Jack. You may worry about your son, but leave Ray's well-being to me. I do not plan to let anything happen to the heir that is the only thing making my parents give in to this dream of mine anyways.”

That should not be the reason Ryan should want to keep Ray safe, but Jack pressed his lips together and refrained from snapping at him. Ray wasn't his son, and as long as Ryan kept him safe he supposed no harm done—however selfish and skewed those reasons for keeping him safe may be.

“Alright,” Geoff cut in, before too much of Jack's irritation could show on his face and make the tension between the two worse than it already was. “Is that all then, Ryan, because I really am rather exhausted now and I would very much like to check on Gavin before I sleep.”

Ryan nodded stiffly. “Yes. Everything else can and will wait until tomorrow. I will show you to your rooms.”

He stood, and the other two followed suit, following the man up the oaken stairs and still glancing around at the rich marble and polished wood décor of the marvelous house. Ryan led them to two doors across a hall and allowed them to choose, Geoff taking the left side of the hall and Jack the right.

As he stepped in, he gave a low whistle, eyes wide. He had seen entire houses smaller than this chamber. The ceilings were high and the bed was massive, and he plopped into it with an almost giddy little giggle.

There was a knock and the butler—Jon, he reminded himself—pulled a trunk into the room.

“Master Haywood informed me you don't have many clothes to your own name, and instructed me to give you some of his. They are a bit big, I'm afraid, but they will at least do to sleep in.”

He left Geoff to pull the blue bedclothes out of the trunk and ready himself for bed. The clothes were big, especially around the shoulders, but that was far better than being too small and after years of sleeping in what he had spent the day in, Geoff didn't really even bother registering the fact before he flopped into the bed and pulled the warm, heavy blankets around him.

He was just beginning to slip off, on the very edge of sleep, when he heard the door crack open near silently and quickly close again. It was obvious the culprit had tried to be quiet, but the door was heavy and they misjudged, so it was a rather loud slam that jolted Geoff out of his dozing state. He was in absolutely no way surprised when he felt the mattress dip, and felt the familiar warm weight of his son scramble up into the bed and curl against his side. He shifted, groaning softly and curling his arm around his boy to pull him more comfortably into his chest.

“Did you have fun with your new friends?” he asked softly.

Gavin nodded against his neck, wiggling to fit closer against him.

“Mr. Jon read us a story from this big book. But it wasn't as good as yours.”

Geoff smiled, rubbing his back.

“Good. I'm the master bard around here.”

Gavin giggled. “You can't bloody sing!”

“Language. And I most certainly can. I just can't sing well.”

Gavin just giggled again softly, yawning and snuggling up closer and closing his eyes.

“Ray-ray says you're gonna go on adventure with Mr. Ryan. Are you?”

He sounded a bit nervous.

“I am,” Geoff murmured. “But so are you, so don't worry.”

Gavin relaxed, and Geoff felt him smile against his shoulder.

“Really?! Where are we going? Is it going to be fun? Is Micoo coming with us? When--”

“Gavin,” Geoff groaned. “I love you. Very much. But it's late and I'm tired and _you're_ tired and I promise you Ryan will answer any questions you've got tomorrow, way better than I can. So sleep, lad. Sleep now, and we can talk about adventures and whatever tomorrow.”

Gavin huffed but didn't say anything else, snuggling more up to him and closing his eyes. And finally Geoff fell into deep sleep, one arm tucking his son safe against his chest as he fell into a muddled dream of blue-black waters and monsters more brilliant and terrifying than his mind could put an image to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I was kinda hoping to make this chapter at least get nearer to the adventure parts but i wanted to end your wait and get it out, and I felt that was a decent stopping point. The next chapter, if not actually made with adventure, will at least end at a point where the one after will be adventure from the get-go.
> 
> Anyway, as I mentioned, hopefully the next chapter will be out by Friday. Hopefully. I really don't want to make anymore promises cause that seems to jinx me and I don't want that.
> 
> As usual, thank you for all your support and kudos and comments, do feel free to drop more comments my way, I love them all very very much.


	7. Death of a hobo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Geoff is both annoyed and oddly touched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late late late late late. fuck. whoops. sorry.
> 
> shrug can't think of any excuses. I'm trying here yo. Though this chapter also is _really_ long. Like, almost double the length of any of the previous chapters long. I hope that can make up for it.

Geoff woke the next morning to a very slow creaking of his bedroom's door, and looked blearily up just in time to catch sight of Ryan's anxious, and then for some reason _relieved_ face. He grumbled and shifted to roll over, blinking groggily to try and process Ryan's sigh of relief.

“Ryan?” he mumbled, staying quiet with more effort than normally needed due to his still half-asleep nature—not that it was entirely necessary, Gavin could probably sleep through and earthquake. “Is it seriously time to get up already...?”

“What? Why wou—oh, yes. Yes it is. That is why I woke you up. The tailor I hired will be here soon, up up.”

He beamed innocently, too innocently, but Geoff was too tired to bother trying to figure out what he'd been up to. He groaned, slumping back into the bed so the mattress bounced, stirring Gavin from his own sleep. The boy whined, and Geoff sat up.

“I think it's too goddamn early for this,” he grumbled. He looked on the clock at the wall, eyes popping open and giving a wheezy sort of squawk of anger. “ _Five in the morning?!_ Ryan you lunatic, you can't be serious!”

“We need to get up early if we are going to get you and Jack—mostly you, which is why you come first—presentable to meet my parents!” Ryan huffed. “I admit it is early, but my parents are both early to rise, and I need to get you in something that doesn't look like it was stolen from my closet! Now come, Jon is preparing breakfast.”

He spun on his heel and walked out, leaving the door open behind him. Geoff grumbled and scooped a still nodding Gavin into one arm, stretching and popping his back before carrying him after his host. He managed to catch up with Ryan before the man made it to the kitchen, more out of necessity and fear of getting lost in this castle-sized house than actually wanting to keep the man company.

Jon was at the table, setting plates of crepes out for Ray and Michael, who were already awake and waiting for their food eagerly. Ray looked up, and grinned.

“Gavin!” he cheered. “You're okay!”

Ryan sputtered a bit, smashing a finger to his mouth in a hasty hushing motion as Gavin blinked confusedly. “...Wot?”

“I did tell you to check with Geoff before you went running to him waking him up,” Jon said, smirking a bit at Ryan. “Gavin is fine; he did mention that he didn't like sleeping away from his Daddy.”

“I must say I have no earthly idea what you're on about, Jon,” Ryan said, grabbing two plates and trying to push Geoff closer as though to distract him.

“Excuse me? I thought I was awoken because I needed grooming,” Geoff said. “What does Gavin have to do with anything?”

“Well, my lord was rather worried when Gavin wasn't in Ray's room with the other two this morning, though I did tell him he was fine. He was rather upset though, and ran off to see if you might know what he might have been looking for--”

“Ryan. Did you wake me up because you thought my kid was missing and you were coming to tell me that you lost my child in this maze of a house.”

“That is absolutely preposterous and I resent that accusation immensely.”

“Wait, does that mean that if you'd listened to Jon I could still be asleep right now?!”

“No!” Ryan snapped, crossing his arms. “...Well, possibly, but not for long! I do mean that! You need to eat before you get changed at any rate!”

Geoff glared at him, grumbling under his breath as he plopped his son and himself into chairs and started to moodily shove food into his mouth. Gavin dug in, in slight awe of the quality of the sweet crepes.

“I'm going to wake Jack,” Ryan grumbled, still miffed. “Jon, do try not to ruin my reputation any more while I'm gone.”

“They've known you for years, sir. You've likely already done it for me.”

Ryan scowled and stomped off as Geoff guffawed, slapping Jon on the shoulder proudly.

A few minutes later the man returned with a yawning Jack in tow, the latter sitting beside Michael as Ryan sat closer to the head of the table. Michael subtly, or at least in _attempted_ subtly, scooched his chair closer to his guardian, staring stubbornly at his plate when Gavin and Ray looked at him curiously. Jack said nothing, sipping his tea and digging into the crepes.

Just as good as the scones. He and Jon would have to talk before they left for this grand adventure of theirs.

“Eat quickly, gentlemen,” Ryan announced. “The tailors will be here before half-past, with several sizes that I estimated before your arrival. You will be measured, given an outfit of the closest measurements, and then will be gifted with an assortment of outfits for the trip. I will not have Geoff wearing the same outfit throughout the entire trip.”

“ _I have more than one bloody outfit, for the love of God!”_

“And they may not be quite as masterfully tailored as yours, but I also have more than enough clothes,” Jack said. “Do we really need these?”

“And you can bring them!” Ryan said. “But you can never have too many, anything could happen to them on the ship! Besides, I assure you they will be far more comfortable than anything you own. I spare no expenses on companions of mine, after all.”

He beamed proudly, as though he had been waiting to be able to say that for a long time.

(Which was not entirely untrue. He may not ever say it aloud, but he was quite giddy that for the first time, he really did have friends.)

They both rolled their eyes, and he continued.

“And after that, Jon can give you a shave, Geoff. You can once more wear that impressive mustache you had during the war.”

“He's a barber now too?” Geoff snorted. “Amazing, Jon. Is there anything you can't do?”

“Oh, I have plenty of specialized servants; valets, cooks, cleaners and whatnot, but Jon does the best at any rate. And I prefer him if it's a personal matter. He makes for good company. ...Usually.”

Jon gave a slight bow, grinning a bit. “Your praise is too much, young master. The sentiment is returned, of course. Usually.”

Jack snorted, smirking around his food. “I have to say, Ryan. I think I like this butler of yours.”

Ryan smiled as he sat with his own plate, starting on his breakfast with much more elegance than his hungry friends.

“And here I thought he was incapable of being appreciated by any but me.”

He allowed them to eat in comfortable silence for a bit, and they were all just finishing up just as there was a knock upon the front door. Jon disappeared to answer the door, and returning a couple of minutes later with two tailors in tow; a slender man with black hair and a gleaming smile and a large, muscular man with blond hair.

“Two of my family's personal tailors—Jose Castillo and Blaine Gibson. They will be taking your measurements now. Jack, if you'll go with Blaine, and Geoff, with Jose please.”

“Ryan may insist on formalities,” Jose said, grabbing Geoff's arm before the older man could agree or decline and starting to push him up the stairs, “though I think he of all people would understand that I don't like sharing my father's name. Call me JJ, please.”

“Uh...alright,” Geoff said, as he sort of half-led and half was-led back to his chambers. JJ closed the door and opened his case, pulling out a measuring tape and starting to measure parts of Geoff the man hadn't really known ever needed to be measured.

“This is some...oddly specific numbers you need,” he muttered, as JJ measured the distance between his legs.

“I take pride in my work, Captain Ramsey.”

“Geoff, mate. What is it with people still trying to call me Captain, anyway? I wasn't that great of a soldier, you know.”

“Mr. Ryan begs to differ,” JJ said without breaking his pace. “He speaks very highly of you to anyone who will listen.”

Geoff snorted. “Really now.”

“Really indeed,” JJ said, measuring his foot. “And stop _squirming,_ Ben won't be happy if I do not give him an exact measurement for your shoes! Really, he takes it more seriously than me, they're just shoes, pretentious little cobbler...”

Geoff went quiet, trying not to squirm too much as he let JJ's casual mention of how often Ryan spoke of him sink in. Soon the man stood, nodding.

“As Ryan should have mentioned, we brought an outfit for you and Jack each that will fit you well enough for today. Not as perfectly fitted as Ryan seems to want before presenting you to his parents, but there's only so much even we can do on such short notice.”

He rolled the tape back up and closed the case.

“I'll go get your temporary outfit, and Blaine should be finished with Jack soon enough. Then the children.”

“You're doing Gavin too?” Geoff asked.

“Of course. And the other one, with the curls. I don't think you quite understand just how much of a good impression Ryan needs to make on his parents.” He looked irritated, like even he didn't much like the senior Haywoods.

“I'll be back, and then I assume Ryan will have somebody come take care of...that.” He gestured vaguely at Geoff's face, and the man grumbled as he again self-consciously rubbed his beard.

“Not that bad...”

JJ snorted, choosing not to comment as he disappeared out the door.

Geoff waited, not quite sure if he should wait or go back downstairs. Ten minutes later he was just about to head out, when the door opened and Jon entered with a perfectly folded suit.

“Ryan set JJ on Gavin, and I'm here to help you change since I'm your barber anyway. That comes first, by the way—Ryan doesn't want any of your 'disgusting face hair' getting on your suit.”

Geoff rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“So first we wash you off—really, when was the last time you had a bath—and then a shave, and then we dress you, and by that time you will likely be the last done, as since the children got baths last night you're the highest maintenance one here.”

Geoff grumbled, but allowed Jon to lead him to the bathroom. “Not that disgusting...”

His bath passed without incident, and in fact Geoff wished he had thought to take one last night as well. He'd forgotten how nice it was to soak and be clean after so long.

The bath passed without incident, though Jon called him out sooner than he would have liked, and finally found Geoff sat in front of the looking glass with Jon behind him with the shave crème and a razor blade in his hand.

“Hold still. It wouldn't do to introduce you to the masters of the house sans your nose.”

Geoff glared at him in the mirror, but held still as Jon covered his face in the lather and began to shave.

Geoff stared at the mirror, watching his beard slowly vanish.

“...I changed my mind. I like my beard let me keep my beard.”

“Stop. _Talking._ ”

Geoff shut up with a reluctant little whine, closing his eyes against the torture.

Finally the blade was pulled away, and Jon wiped the remaining lather off.

“There. Oh, quit your flinching, you absolute child.”

Geoff peeked his eyes open, and blinked more in surprise.

“...Oh. I forgot how good that looked, too be honest.”

He ran his fingers over the lightly curled handlebar mustache.

“...I still miss the beard though. My face feels so...unprotected.”

“The only thing that beard was protecting was the fleas that were likely living in it.”

Geoff sputtered indignantly and incoherently as Jon pulled him up and fetched the clothes.

“Now, get dressed. Would you like me to help?”

“I can dress myself,” Geoff seethed. “I didn't _always_ live on the streets you know.”

Jon nodded. “Then I will be waiting outside for you.”

He walked out, leaving Geoff to sigh and grumble and pull his clothes on. He hadn't been lying; he _did_ know how to dress himself. And shave himself, but Ryan seemed intent on letting others do as much work for him as he could. And while the thought was nice, Geoff had felt helpless often enough on the streets that there came a point where having butlers and tailors do everything for him was more insulting and patronizing than it was helpful.

He dressed himself, and he had to admit Ryan had been right. These clothes _were_ comfortable, and they weren't nearly as overly fancy and stuffy as what he'd been expecting. He looked himself over in the mirror, and couldn't help but smile a bit.

It _had_ been a while since he'd looked this nice.

He walked out, and Jon looked him up and down before grinning. He moved forward to straighten his tie and lapels, and nodded.

“Amazing what a decent shave and outfit can do. Now let's go; the others are waiting and Master and Mistress Haywood will be up by eight.”

Geoff nodded and followed the butler back downstairs to the parlor, where all five of the others were watching as if in wait.

“May I present the newly groomed, Captain Geoffrey Ramsey,” Jon said, giving a slight bow.

Gavin gasped, eyes wide.

“Daddy! You have a _face!_ ”

Jack and Ryan burst into laughter, and Geoff had to smile a bit himself.

“That shocking, is it?” he grumbled playfully, tugging his mustache. Gavin oohed again, running up and holding his arms up so that Geoff scooped him up. He tugged on the mustache, wonder on his face.

“This looks better! I like it.”

Geoff chuckled. “...I do too, buddy. You don't look so bad yourself, though your hair looks weird lying all...flat like that.”

“I don't like it,” Gavin huffed, poking at his combed head.

“It won't be for long,” Ryan assured him, starting to herd Geoff towards the sofa. “Just long enough that my parents accept you, or we head off on our journey. I'm not picky about which comes first.”

Jon pulled out his pocket watch.

“Their valets should be waking them up just now. I will prepare some tea and set the cook to making their breakfast, and leave you to get ready for their arrival.”

Jack and Geoff nodded and sat, looking their kids and each other up and down.

“You look good,” Jack agreed. “Actually recognizable as the man who kept our rears in gear back in the army.”

“Stop bringing that up, I'm rather tired of hearing about it,” Geoff huffed. “Maybe I _liked_ the town drunk look, did you selfish bastards ever think of that?”

“I contemplated it momentarily before deciding I didn't care,” Ryan offered, “if that counts for anything.”

“It doesn't.”

“So Ryan,” Jack said, turning to the other. “Much as I hate to change the subject. Do you have a plan for today specifically?”

“Well, if all goes to plan, my parents won't require much of you before letting us go off. I think I have worn their hope of my changing my mind about this journey of mine down, especially with my adoption of Ray. Even with your freshened looks I don't doubt Geoff will still find a way to make them hate him, but I do not actually think they will forbid me from going anywhere, and if they think that it would stop me anyway they are quite mistaken. I'm sure they plan to give me their 'blessing' anyway at this point, simply to avoid the scandal of having me go off and defy them yet again. So really just try not to give them too much reason to despise you, and this shouldn't take long.”

“I'll do my best not to act too much like the drunken hobo I really am,” Geoff snorted.

“Excellent. I'm less worried about you Jack. And after that fiasco is over, I will show you the ship, and we can finish preparing it for the journey. I've already had most of the work done, all that really needs to be added are your new clothes and other personal belongings, and more supplies to add for the two other little ones.”

He patted Michael and Gavin's heads, and Michael shoved his hand away with a glare. Gavin didn't really seem to notice, curling the ends of Geoff's mustache around his fingers.

“Then I'll be giving you a tour of the ship and instructing you on anything you are likely to need to assist me with later. With lady luck on our side, we can set off this afternoon, though more realistically, we will be leaving first thing after breakfast tomorrow.”

Jack and Geoff nodded.

“And with that--”

Ryan broke off, looking up at the top of the stairs with a sort of readying grimace. His two friends, and then the children, followed his gaze, to meet the sight of the two people frowning in unison down at their little gathering.

James Haywood Sr. was a tall, broad man; even old and greying as he was. Ryan greatly favored his father, from the eyes and the shape of his nose to the matching grimace both held as they met each other's eyes. The only thing Ryan seemed to have of his mother's was her hair, still holding onto it's blonde color and pulled back into a bun. She was much smaller than her husband, though she held herself with the same level of regal pride that spoke of being raised into a well-known name.

His father cleared his throat, and led the way down to the foot of the stairs. Ryan rose to greet them, Ray standing as well rather stiffly at his side, looking nervous and uncomfortable.

“Mother. Father. Good morning.”

His father didn't immediately respond, looking over the gathering with a stern gaze and not bothering to hide his disapproval when he finally turned it back to his son's.

“So then, this is your little party? To be joining you in exploring...the depths of the ocean?” he ground it out with obvious contempt.

Ryan nodded, holding his gaze evenly. “It is. Father, Mother, this is Captain Geoff Ramsey.” Geoff nodded a bit, holding the glare he was met with evenly and for once not arguing the use of his title. “And his son, Gavin Ramsey.”

Gavin hugged Geoff's arm, glancing up quickly before looking away, unsettled by the unkind look he was getting.

“And Jack Pattillo, with his ward Michael.”

Jack nodded politely and smiled still, though Michael glared up at Ryan's father with just as much venom and contempt. He was used to those looks, and he would meet them the same as he always had.

“You didn't mention they had children,” his mother said, breaking the tension suddenly with a surprisingly soft voice as she stepped closer and bent to meet Gavin's gaze.

“It was a development I myself was not expecting,” Ryan admitted.

Lady Haywood patted Gavin's cheek slightly before standing again, still looking stern but rather mollified for the moment.

“Now James,” she started before her still bitter looking husband could speak. “I cannot say I approve of this voyage you seem to have your heart set upon. But I am tired of seeing you and your father at each others' throats. I know we cannot stop you, however much he may be determined to try.”

James Sr. opened his mouth, but his wife silenced him with a look.

“I am also not keen on facing the scrutiny that we were held under when you left for India, worse this time. I have no doubt it will not be approved of, but not so much as if we hadn't let it happen. You go on this journey of yours. Discover whatever it is you are so keen to discover. I don't like it, but you are a strong-willed, brilliant man. You take after your father in that.”

Both men grimaced, glancing at each other. Neither seemed to happy at the comparison, but both stayed quiet.

“You returned from India, and I have faith that you'll return from this. And if you do not, there will be hell to pay when I meet you in Heaven.”

She stood straighter. “And that is all I have to say on this matter.”

Ryan stared at his mother with open shock, ignoring his seething father for a moment in favor of looking at her with a new admiration and love.

Frances Haywood would have been lying if she said she had seen that look since Ryan's toddler years, and again if she hadn't missed it.

“Thank you, Mother,” Ryan said softly, taking her arms lightly and beaming at her. “I promise to return whole, and with newfound knowledge that will make even Father proud.”

Said man made a disbelieving sort of noise in his throat, but nodded.

“...So be it,” he said. “I will not...argue with my wife. I will stand by her word—or at least most of it—” he added in a slight mutter, “and send you on your way. I suppose any hopes I have of stopping you are all children's fantasies at any rate.”

Ryan nodded, stepping back again. “They are. But I _will_ return. We all will.”

He looked at Jack pointedly, and the man was still for a bit before nodding as well.

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Haywood said. “Then your father and I will be taking our breakfast. Will you be joining us?”

“We have already eaten,” Ryan said. “We have preparations to finish before tomorrow morning.”

“Disappointing, but nothing to be done about it now,” she sighed.

“Get to it then, I suppose,” James said gruffly. Without another word he turned towards the dining room and disappeared through its doors. He was followed almost immediately by his wife, leaving the remaining party in a rather stunned silence in the foyer.

“...Well,” Jon broke the silence. “That went far better than I think _any_ of us could have been hoping for. Though the tea was wasted...”

He gazed sadly at the still lightly steaming cups on the parlor table.

Ryan swung around, beaming at the others and clapping his hands together.

“Well! That went wonderfully! Now then, now then, to the ship! There's still much to be done, many a preparation to be made before we can embark!”

He practically skipped towards front door, grinning giddily.

“To the harbor! To the ship!”

He left, waving his hands for them to follow. Ray did immediately, Michael right behind him and tugging Jack's hand for him to follow. Geoff sighed, finally setting Gavin back on the ground so he could follow his friends, and brought up the rear of the party as Ryan bustled them all into the carriage.

“The harbor is a mere ten minutes away by coach,” he said, cheerful as a child on Christmas who had come face to face with old Saint Nicholas himself. “Oh this is _wonderful,_ we may get to leave tonight after all, yes!”

Jack and Geoff couldn't help but chuckle at the man's enthusiasm as they settled into their seats, leaning back as the coach pulled forward. All through the ride Ryan's boisterous mood couldn't be quelled, and when they arrived he practically leapt out of the carriage.

“Come, come!”

The other two climbed out at a much more reasonable pace and sharing another look as they followed Ryan towards the docks. He finally stopped, gesturing grandly at the ship taking up the full space of water between two docks.

“And here it is at last!”

Geoff and Jack felt their jaws drop at the same time, and for a long moment, they could only stare in shock.

“...Ryan...” Jack said slowly. “...What is that?”

They stared at the ship. It was absolutely massive, at least the size of one of the Queen's ships herself, made of copper or bronze plating and lined with thick glass windows. It had no sails, but several rudders and pipes. The front end was almost entirely one large window, made of the same thick glass, and instead of a gangplank the entrance seemed to be a large hole at the top sealed with a crank, which Ryan opened with no small amount of effort.

“This,” he said breathlessly, standing atop the ship by the entry hole, “is our ship. The S.S. Edgar!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i absolutely went there with that ship name. *NO RAGRETS tattoo*
> 
> ehehee. this was fun to write. I feel like the ending was a bit sudden but it was long and late and I gotta get ready for work soon and I really, _really_ wanted to get it up. The next chapter will have adventurous beginnings!
> 
> The ragging on Geoff's hobo beard is dedicated to the artist and creator of this AU and the true mother of this story, someoneudontknow5, who despises Geoff's old beard with a quite frankly impressive amount of passion. what a nerd.
> 
> The next chapter will also probably be late, because starting this week my boss suddenly went from giving me four 4 hour shifts a week to seven 7-8 hour shifts a week. wtf. so if that's a new pattern I'll have to get used to that. pray for my survival.
> 
> look from now on lets just say that if I can get a chapter out every two weeks it'll be a success, and if I get more than that in we can throw a party. yeah.
> 
> as usual, comments and kudos and comments are welcome!


	8. The glory of Edgar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of tours and last suppers and Ryan starting to get an inkling of just what he's gotten into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slowly emerges from a smoldering pile of ash and rubble, hefting a sword spearing the head of the great and ancient beast called Writer's Block*
> 
> ...Jokes aside, this is...beyond late, and I'm so fucking sorry.
> 
> I've had quite a busy and stressful couple of months. I was in a wedding, and then after said wedding I house-sat for the bride and groom while they were on their honeymoon and their dogs are. wild childs. I had some personal stuff happen as well, then I ended up house-sitting again, and then more stuff and...all that in combination with the fact that my inspiration for this story took a long holiday made writing seem more a chore than it was worth for a time.
> 
> However I'm back, and hopefully I'll be back to writing regular updates again soon if not immediately. Thank you so, _so_ much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter I wrote to make it up! Four-thousand words, almost ten full pages, and the last chapter before the journey proper really begins!
> 
> (I think I've said that before, but for real. The next chapter begins the journey.)

The ship was as massive inside as it appeared to be outside. The adults climbed down the hatch's ladder first, waiting at the bottom to help down their respective kids. They walked out of the entrance chamber in a group, coming into a large hall that seemed to wrap around the entire perimeter of the ship, lined with thick glass windows looking out into the water. The children scrambled to look through the glass, staring into the brown-blue water with awe even if there wasn't much to see.

“Those will be much more interesting to look through once the voyage begins,” Ryan assured them, placing a hand on Ray's back and gently pushing him towards a door. He was exceedingly grateful that the other two seemed content to follow him and their fathers, and he led his guests through a door what appeared to be a large sitting room, with bookshelves stuffed full and a couple of couches and tables.

“This is the lounge,” he said cheerfully, as Gavin gasped and raced to try and look at all the books. “When we're traveling, quite a bit of the voyage will likely be spent in here, especially at the beginning. I haven't quite gotten all the books moved in yet, and I've ordered some games for the children, but they won't be here until this evening.”

Geoff had followed his son to the bookshelves, hooking his hands under his arms and lifting him so he could see the spines on the higher shelves.

“Pretty impressive, Haywood. Nice to know you thought of our imminent boredom.”

“It won't last long,” Ryan quipped, grinning confidently. “We have nearly an entire world to explore down here, you know.”

He gestured for them all to follow him again, leading them through another door into a kitchen which, while the size of neither Jack's nor his own, was decently large and well-equipped.

“I know you like to bake,” he said, turning to Jack. “And though I don't know how terribly you'd miss it, I figured it wouldn't hurt to give you somewhere to do it. Though the oven and stove are powered differently, they function the same. So--”

“Thank you, Ryan,” Jack chuckled, smiling warmly. “Though...” he smirked. “If all you really wanted me for was my baking, you could have just said so.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “We need a kitchen anyway, you know. I have yet to discover how to sustain human life without nourishment...despite many a valiant attempt...”

Jack interrupted his grumbling. “Are the kitchen and the lounge the only parts of the ship you wanted us to see, Ryan, or is there more of a tour waiting for us after your grumbling?”

“Of course!” he scoffed. “This only the first floor. There are two more below us.”

“Really?” Michael asked, looking down at the floor with wide eyes as though a trap door would open up and he'd fall through to see the rest of the ship.

Ryan nodded smiling again. “And you will see them soon. Come! Let us begin the tour!”

He led them out of the deck and down another ladder, which led into a hall lined with doors made of a lighter, thinner layer of metal than the rest of the ship.

“I only had four bunks made,” Ryan said apologetically. “As when I began construction I didn't know you two had your own children. We can arrange for ourselves to each have a bunk and the lads to share a room, or we can share a room with our children and have a spare.”

“I wanna sleep with Papa!” Gavin yelled, immediately latching on to Geoff's leg.

“Doesn't seem like it'd be fair give ourselves our own rooms and stuff three kids into only one,” Jack agreed, pretending once again not to notice the unease Michael was radiating at the thought of being separated from Jack for a very long time, inching slowly closer to the bearded man. He had sort of hoped that he'd been getting over his shyness, with the way he'd been playing with Ray and Gavin—but he supposed it was a process, unlearning all the hate that had been spat at him up til now. “Two to a room sounds good.”

Ryan nodded, making a mental note to tell the movers he'd be hiring how to arrange the luggage in the bunks. For now he pushed open one of the doors, revealing to the company a decently sized chamber with a cot-like bed currently barren of coverings built into the wall, a round porthole-window just above it, and not much else. The bed at least was a good size, though it didn't look quite so comfortable as the ones they had slept in the night prior.

“This is what they all look like. Plain now, but I'm sure they'll fill up with souvenirs along the way!”

“Yes, I'm sure the bottom of the ocean is just bustling with trinket shops,” Jack muttered, though if Ryan heard him he elected to ignore it. Instead he pulled the door shut, turning back to face them.

“You can pick a room if you'd like, though it won't much matter since they--”

“ _We_  need the biggest room!” Michael interrupted, puffing himself up. “We need the biggest room 'cause Jack's the biggest and  _I'm_ the biggest and he's only gon' ta fit in the biggest room!”

Jack snorted at the blank look Ryan gave Michael.

“Boy, they're all the sa--”

But Michael had run off, pushing open the remaining three doors and then consequently running between them in a quest to find the one with the most space. Geoff swung an arm over the rather dumbstruck aristocrat's shoulder, leaning against him.

“So, big fancy ships like these usually have a captain's quarters right?” he said, talking louder than he necessarily needed to as though just to make sure Michael could hear him. “Bigger and fancier than the crew's?”

“Geoff, I assure I made all the rooms the--”

“Because I  _am_ your captain, and I saved your backside more times than either of us can count, so I think we should--”

“NO!” Michael yelled, running over and pulling at Ryan's trouser leg. “We need that room so Jackie can fit! He's the biggest, so he needs the biggest room!”

Ryan jumped. “The rooms are all the same size!” he forced out quickly, before he could be interrupted again.

But the (intentional, if the victorious grin on Geoff's face was any indication) damage was done, because Michael just glared up at him disbelievingly before starting to once again run between the rooms to determine with some manner of deductive skills that he apparently possessed to find the biggest room.

“Then we get the second biggest!” Gavin yelled, running after Michael to nod approvingly as the boy hummed and patted the walls as though he actually knew what he was doing. And then of course Ray, eager to be included in whatever his new friends were doing, jumped in to help, offering advice and observations that apparently made sense to them if to none of the adults.

It wasn't until fifteen minutes later, after Jack had taken pity on the at-a-loss Ryan staring helplessly at the gaggle of toddlers running between rooms, and had mentioned to Michael that  _this door seems wider than the others, don't you think, I think I'll fit through it just fine_ , that the red-head had nodded approvingly; and Geoff had realized that with Gavin hyped up it was now his problem too, and had said that obviously since Ryan was showing off the first room he opened had to have been the best, and had flopped decisively on the bed for Gavin to jump on top of him; that the boys had calmed down and the group had once again laid claim to the closest thing to peace it could get.

Ryan shook his head, clearing his throat once it was mostly quiet again.

“N-now then...back to the tour.”

He moved down to the end of the hall, pulling open a much larger, heavier door set against the wall.

The entire front wall of this room was the thick glass of the windows, looking deep into the ocean before them. There was a long station lined with levers and buttons and switches spread along before it, in the center of which was a large, weirdly y-shaped lever that stood out among the rest. There was a large table bolted down to the floor at the right, covered with filled maps of the charted ocean surface and many more unfilled blank maps, pencils and pens and compasses.

“Please,” Ryan said suddenly, voice rising a couple octaves as he noticed the boys' eyes widen in awe of all the buttons and the low beeping hum, and their slight shift as though to move closer, “do not touch  _anything._ ”

Jack let out a low whistle, slowly stepping closer to examine the helm's controls.

“Lord above, Ryan. This is...something, alright.”

Ryan beamed. “It's a marvel of modern steam technology is what it is! I spent  _years_  designing her, you know. I began before I was even in the army; though the plans and blueprints were finished two years ago, I've had to spend the last two testing and perfecting the technology.”

He grinned even wider, gazing around the room like a proud mother.

“But it was worth it. She's perfect now, and she's going to take us all over the bottom of this new blue world!”

He turned back to grin at them. “As you've likely deduced, this is the helm. I'll be spending a vast majority of my time in here, steering the ship.”

“You?” Jack echoed, snapping his attention back to him. “By yourself?”

Ryan shrugged. “I'll likely teach the two of you how to steer at some point, as I obviously can't do it entirely on my own.”

“You aren't going to hire a captain?” Geoff asked curiously.

Ryan scoffed. “This isn't a boat, Geoff. The controls are different, and I am not going to take the time to train some stranger on how to steer the fruits of my decades-old labor. Even if there was a captain I trusted, training them now would only set us back.”

Well, there had been someone he'd wanted to consider, but he wasn't available for the long term...

At this point the lads were all standing on their toes, trying to get a better view of all the buttons and oh-so-subtly trying to hop closer while the adults were distracted with what was clearly grown-up talk. Ryan quickly turned, pulling up the last hatch to the next ladder—to the boys' easily-distracted excitement and Jack's chagrin.

“God, Ryan, ever heard of stairs?” he huffed as he started down after him.

“Ladders take up less space, which needs to be conserved in a ship we're going to be spending so much time in.”

Jack just sighed, dropping down and turning to look around.

“...Oh.”

The bottom floor was almost entirely one room, full of pumping and steaming machinery, gauges an even louder hum then the control room. It was a maze of interconnecting pipes and tubes, like the bars a contortionist would wrap themselves around.

“Good God...” Geoff gasped behind him.

“There's not much to show you around here for now,” Ryan said, though he did sound rather smug about their awestruck reactions, “though I may bring you back down later and teach you about them. I can't maintain the ship on my own for the entire time, though I might like to. I must reiterate  _not_ to touch anything,” he added sternly, turning to the boys with a stern glare. “These pipes are all very, very hot. You'll burn yourselves terribly if you touch them.”

Gavin's little hand jerked away from one of the closest pipes at the warning, scooting closer to Geoff and looking at the steaming contraption maze with wide eyes.

“There's a safe path through them to the storage room just down from here,” he continued, “but there isn't much interesting to be seen there, and speaking of which it is what's needed for the people moving provisions and whatnot into the ship, which I put a hold on for this tour. There's nothing left to show you, so we had best head back to the mansion to finish preparing.”

Leaving no time to argue or complain he herded them all back up the ladders (which the children somehow managed to make more an adventure of than the climbs down), and back through the halls out of the ship into the salty air of the harbor.

“So!” he chirped, as Geoff finally set Gavin's feet back on the dock. “I think that went well! Was the ship interesting enough for you?”

“I have to admit, I had my doubts about your talk of exploring the sea,” Jack started, “but if there's anything that can let us do it, it's that thing.”

“I liked our bedroom!” Gavin chirped. “It's the best one!”

“Nah!” Michael huffed. “Ours is the biggest so  _ours_ is the best!”

Jack sensed the approaching quarrel, along with Ryan if the “oh dear God please don't do this again” look starting to spread over his face was any clue, and stepped in quickly, placing a hand on Michael's head.

“I think all our rooms are pretty great. It wouldn't be fair if they weren't. So how about we go back in time for tea, and you can talk about how great our rooms are over that, yeah?”

Michael grumbled and crossed his arms, but seemed to agree that this argument would be better made over scones. Ryan shot him a grateful look, and began to herd them all back into the carriage.

  
  


\---

  
  


It was getting late into the afternoon by the time they arrived back at the manor, and a light lunch of sandwiches and tea had already been prepared and was waiting for them with Jon by the time the group made it back inside.

“Your parents have requested that you sup with them tonight,” he informed Ryan as he poured the tea.

Ryan sighed, but didn't look terribly surprised. “A last supper of sorts, I supposed. I can't say I wasn't expecting it.”

“I don't think it will be too terrible,” Jon said. “They seemed to actually want to talk to you when they told me to pass the message on.”

“Are you making supper, Jon?” Gavin asked as he took a big bite of sandwich.

“No, I don't usually do much cooking beyond baking snacks for tea and the occasional breakfast,” the butler answered. “We do have actual cooks, you know.”

“He tends to deal with more personal matters like small guest dinners and matters of an immediately private nature himself, as some of the other staff do tend to gossip a bit too much,” Ryan said with a shrug. “He's worked for our family since he was a teenager, he's practically a Haywood himself at this point.”

“You flatter me, sir,” Jon chuckled. “Though speaking of personal matters, Blaine and Jose brought the clothes for all of you. You'll find them in your respective chambers, along with the new suitcases sent for by Master Haywood.”

“New suitcases, Ryan?” Geoff sighed. “Really? I'm beginning to think that your real goal is just to replace everything I own with something bigger and fancier...I am homeless you know. I don't really have anywhere to keep putting this stuff.”

“Maybe that's why he got us bigger suitcases,” Jack laughed, standing. “Alright, come on. We had best get finished packing, before you start stalling and end up trying to stuff everything into it tomorrow morning.”

He waved for Michael to follow him, and the younger boy stuffed half a scone into his mouth in his haste to jump out of his chair and follow his guardian up the stairs. Geoff followed right behind, Gavin eating his last scone at a slightly more reasonable pace on his shoulders and dropping crumbs all in his hair.

When they were gone Ryan leaned back, looking up at Jon with a small frown.

“I didn't send for any suitcases, Jon.”

“No sir, and I never said you did. You didn't say anything when they assumed that, so I didn't either. It was your father.”

“...My father? You're serious.”

Jon sighed. “Ryan, I know you two don't get along that well, but you could give him  _some_ credit. He is your father. He does care, in his own way.”

“Buying my friends suitcases isn't exactly an overbearing show of affection,” Ryan scoffed.

“No, but it is something.”

Ryan frowned at his teacup, falling quiet. Jon watched him for a bit, before sighing.

“If it puts helps put you back into your misguided need to passive-aggressively be at odds with him, he did mention that he doubted Ramsey at least had a bag big enough for everything he'd be needing. He simply went ahead and ordered one for Jack as well, while he was at it.”

Ryan grumbled. “I'm not passive-aggressive...”

“Of course not, sir,” Jon said patronizingly. “And I'm sure your father isn't either. Now finish your tea so you can entertain yourself until dinner by making sure you've got everything you need packed. For the seventieth time.”

  
  


–-

  
  


All things considered, dinner with they Haywoods senior wasn't quite as awkward as Geoff had been expecting. They were surprisingly amicable, now that they had accepted there was nothing they could do to stop their son from leaving, and they spent the dinner asking Jack and Geoff about the lives they had been leading since the end of their tour.

Mostly Jack, as Geoff had made it rather clear that he was a master of avoiding topics he didn't want to talk about.

“I'm not too worried about the bakery while I'm gone,” Jack was saying. “Ryan mentioned that he could have someone take care of running it in the meantime, and I have a friend who I could have look after it even if he hadn't. Though I won't say I'm not glad that I don't have to leave it  _entirely_ up to Joel...”

“We'll check in every so often to make sure things are going smoothly as well,” Frances offered with a smile. “Just to make sure.”

“You don't have to do that,” Ryan said. “I've already got Jon's word for that.”

“And how exactly does he plan to do that from the bottom of the ocean?” James scoffed.

Ryan froze, as the other two adults looked at each other in confusion.

“I...what?”

Jon, who had just entered the dining room to check to refill wine glasses, stared at the Haywoods in shock.

“My lord...what on earth do you mean?”

Frances looked at him curiously. “What do  _you_ mean? You mean you weren't planning to go with them?”

“No!” both he and Ryan said at once.

“I mean, I had considered it, or rather wished, but he is the Haywood family butler,” Ryan said.

“My duty is to the family, before any one heir of it,” Jon agreed. “I-I can't just leave the manor simply to follow the young master to--”

He was cut off as James scoffed, shaking his head.

“Oh, enough of that now, Jon. You can claim to all you want to be our butler first, but we know where your truest loyalties lie. You've favored the boy since you were both boys yourselves, when you were still just second footman.”

“That's one of the reasons we made you butler to begin with,” Frances laughed. “We won't be around forever. Someone has to be around with his best interests at heart when we're gone.”

“And we need  _someone_ sensible to go with him and make sure he doesn't cause too much trouble,” Ryan's father added. “Mr. Pattillo seems like he'd do a fine enough job, but we just don't know him well enough to entrust our only son and heir's well-being entirely to him.”

Ryan stared at them, mouth agape and eyes wide. “S-so Jon may--”

“To be honest I quite already thought that it was already settled he was going with you,” Lady Haywood said. “We've been looking into hiring a temporary replacement for him since yesterday morning. Well, I have at least. Some of us were still trying to convince themselves that they could stop you...”

James shrugged as he took a sip of his wine, not looking too terribly guilty.

Jon stared between the two, mouth hanging open. “...You are serious, my lady?”

She smiled. “You know I'm not one for wasting words on jokes, Jon. If you want to, you may go.”

A slow, wide grin spread over the butler's face. He bowed to them, then stood and cleared his throat as he turned to face Ryan.

“Well, young master. I know this may be last minute, but if you don't mind the smallest of delays for me to pack, then I--”

He was cut off yet again as the breath was knocked out of his lungs with the force of the embrace Ryan suddenly pulled him into; nearly lifted off his feet.

“Stuff it, Risinger!” he laughed. “You're wasting words with this, go get packed now!”

Jon grinned, laughing a bit himself as Ryan set him back on the floor.

“Of course, sir. I'll have Miller tend to the rest of your dinner.”

He turned back to Ryan's parents, still beaming as he bowed again.

“...Thank you, sir and madam. This really is what I wanted.”

“You can repay us by keeping him out of trouble,” James said. “It shouldn't be too hard. Nothing too different from what you're usually doing.”

“You talk about him as though he were my conscience, not my butler,” Ryan grumbled as Jon headed to his quarters.

“No, simply your common sense,” Frances corrected with a smile.

“So Jon is coming with us?”

Every head turned to look at the source of the voice that had interrupted Ryan's indignant sputter of a response. Ray was almost standing in his seat, and though the normally quiet boy shrunk a bit at the sudden full attention the party was giving him, it did nothing to dim the bright shining smile splitting his face.

Ryan blinked in surprise. He hadn't really seen Ray smile like this before...even when he'd been running around after Michael and Gavin, his smile had been smaller. More reserved.

“So it would seem,” he confirmed, smiling again himself. “It appears we won't be having an empty bunk on the ship after all.”

“You really like Jon, don't you Ray?” Gavin asked, nudging the other boy.

Ray flushed a bit, sitting back in his chair and poking at his plate with his fork.

“...I'm just happy he's coming too,” he mumbled.

Gavin grinned. “I like him too! He makes good scones!”

“Jack's are better though,” Michael grumbled under his breath. “...But Jon's are second best.”

“Looks like his going isn't just good for Ryan, is it?” Frances chuckled.

James just hummed, his attention instead on the son that was wolfing down the remains of his dinner (in a very impolite fashion), in his haste to finish and help Jon pack so they'd be ready sooner.

The rest of the dinner passed without any real incident, and by the time the last diner had placed his spoon back in his dessert bowl all three of the kids were yawning and rubbing their eyes.

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Haywood,” Jack said with a warm smile as he stood. “It was wonderful. But we've got a rather early start tomorrow, so I hope you don't mind if we start turning in now.”

“Oh, not at all,” Frances said, as Geoff scooped Gavin into his arms before he could fall forward into his gelato. “You all need to get your rest. Though I do hope you'll have dinner with us again we you get back. I'm sure you'll have plenty of new stories to tell.”

Jack nodded as he picked Michael up, the boy's head falling against his shoulder. Ryan lightly tapped his hand on Ray's head, waking the boy up a bit to lead him up to his room.

“Good night, Mother, Father,” he said. “We may be gone before you get up, if I have my way.”

Geoff shook his head tiredly at them from behind his back.

Frances smiled. “Well then, you should certainly be headed to bed. And I know you, I mean for you to  _sleep,_  Ryan. Not lie in bed and imagine what you'll be getting up to tomorrow.”

Ryan flushed and muttered something under his breath, herding Ray towards the stairs. Geoff and Jack followed him, bidding goodnight to their hosts one last time before they disappeared up the stairs.

Frances leaned back, watching the doors they had disappeared out of with an almost sad smile.

“...We have to be sure to wake up early tomorrow. I feel like it may be a long while before we see him again otherwise.”

James hummed, and sighed as he stared at his plate.

“...Are you sure we're doing the right thing, darling?”

His wife looked up at him, seeming not even slightly surprised at the shadows of worry lining his face.

“He'll go whether we let him or not, James. He's a grown man—we can throw all the fit we want, but in the end it's his life, and his choice.”

He sighed again, arms crossing over his chest.

“...Yes, I suppose so. It's simply like you said.”

He frowned at the door, glaring a bit.

“It simply feels like it'll be a long while before we see him again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew. like i said, long chapter.
> 
> Also, I know Ray hasn't gotten much of a spotlight since his introduction chapter, and I promise that will be fixed in coming chapters. soon the story isn't going to be told from just the Gents' world-wise old-people point of view, after all, as it's been up til now; a rather limited view considering how quiet and shy ray currently is.
> 
> I hope you guys like Jon's interactions with Ryan as much as you said, cause now there's gonna be moooooore! I debated quite a while on whether or not to bring him on the trip, but finally I decided that I liked writing him too much to kick him out. I'd originally planned on little updates of him being written letters by Ryan and Ray, but then decided WHY DO THAT WHEN I COULD JUST THROW HIM IN THERE.
> 
> However, the main characters of this story are still the AH Crew, and though he'll be with them on the ship the story still revolves primarily around them, though now that I've got him he'll likely become pretty important himself. if in a more subtle way. he'll likely stay on the ship for a good portion of the...adventures they may or may not have...to maintain and protect it (and be ready if they need to make a quick getaway).
> 
> and now, for an update on the timeline, which I believe I last mentioned in chapter two and which did not include Ray:
> 
> Michael is almost seven now, by which I mean the one-year anniversary of him being with Jack is coming up and Jack has--or at least is going to--decide that that's his birthday since he doesn't know his actual birthday. In fact only one of the kids knows their birthday (two guesses to which one) but that's a whole can of worms that's gonna be important in a later chapter.
> 
> But anyway, Michael is the oldest and has been with Jack for just shy of a year. Gavin is the youngest, barely six now, but he's been with Geoff ever since he was a baby and Geoff also considers the day he found him his birthday, though it's probably far closer to his actual birthday than Michael's. Ray is somewhere in the middle, and at this point has been with Ryan for almost a month.


	9. Of crates and fish and new beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, it begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *awkward nervous laughing and gentle pushing of this chapter towards the people*
> 
> im so sorry

When Ryan had told them that they would be waking up early, Jack had not expected this.

The sun had yet to peek over the horizon, and the sky was dark bluish-grey and only slowly lightening as Jon conducted servants to packing the bags in the carriage to the docks. Michael was curled up in Jack's arm against his chest, his own little arms wrapped around Jack's neck as he mumbled half-asleep questions. Jack yawned, really just wanting everything to get packed so they could get a damn move on.

“Ryan, if we're going to be going underwater for so long, why does it matter if we leave so early?” Jack sighed, turning to look at the man who was entirely too energetic for such an ungodly hour.

“Jack, I have been planning and wishing for this trip since I was but a boy. I am not going to put it off even a minute longer than necessary.”

“Sleep is necessary, you dick,” Geoff groaned, obviously trying not to fall asleep on his feet. Gavin was still passed out on his shoulders; he hadn't even stirred when Geoff had picked him up to bring him outside. The whole morning was quiet, the only real noises being the sound of the bags being loaded and Ryan's occasional giddy giggle.

“You can sleep on the ship,” he said casually. “The bunks have all been set up and your things will be in the rooms you chose yesterday. I'm sure you'll survive another mere hour.”

“I'm not,” Jack grumbled, rubbing his eyes with this free hand.

Ryan simply ignored him again, focusing his attention on a conversation with Jon having to do with food. It was another thirty minutes before everything had been sent off to the docks to be loaded, and the sky was finally starting to turn pink and gold as they climbed into the last carriage. Geoff's head hit the back of the seat, and he slept the entirety of the twenty minute ride without so much as a stirring twitch.

The ride to the ports was mostly silent, the only sounds that of Ryan tapping his fingers on his knee and the hasty scribbling of Jon trying to get the last of the instructions for his replacement written on a notepad. It was a comfortable silence, and only Ryan would say that the ride felt like it had taken too long.

They arrived at the docks, bustling with activity of sailors and fishers heading off to work, and a large bundle of men around Ryan's ship, loading crates and bags and boxes through the hatch on top. A few people loitered on the edge of the docks, looking curiously at the strange ship mostly underwater that--although having been there for a few days—had never had this much bustle around it.

Ryan practically bounded out of the carriage, clapping his hands to grab the attention of his stirring friends.

“Come come! There aren't too many boxes left and if we help load, we can be off even quicker!”

“Fuck that,” Geoff grumbled. “There's no way in hell you're getting me to do labor when I'm barely able to move.”

“The quicker we finish, the quicker you can go to sleep in your bunk.”

“...Where's the nearest box.”

Ryan laughed cheerfully, and Jack herded the lads to Jon's care so he could help pull boxes up. However, Michael, upon seeing his guardian step away to start loading, didn't much like the idea.

“I wanna help too!” he huffed out, rubbing sleep from his eyes and chasing after him. “I wanna help!”

Jack looked back from where he was lifting a crate, brow creasing.

“Michael, lad, go back to the carriage. This won't take too long.”

Michael puffed up, crossing his arms. “I wan'a help!” he said again.

And before Jack could set the box back down to stop him, Michael had run over to box over twice his size and shoved up against it, trying to push it across the docks towards the ship.

“Michael!” Jack called worriedly, hurrying over towards him. “You're going to hurt yourself!”

Michael yelled. “No! I can help too go away!!”

He shoved harder up against the big, stubborn box, eyes screwed shut with the effort and grunting and snapping several choice swears that had the crewmen around him raising their brows.

And then the box budged.

Michael almost stumbled from the surprise of it, before grinning and scrambling to shove with renewed strength. A few minutes later the box had reached the edge of the dock, where the two guys standing on the edge leaned over to heft it up to lower it down into the ship. Michael laughed joyfully as he stood back up straight, so excited with his victory he didn't notice the shadow of the brawny bearded man leaning over him step back and away.

“Told you! I TOLD YOU!” he hollered, running over to Jack and poking him in the leg until he was picked up. “See!! I TOLD you!”

“You sure did,” Jack chuckled, patting his back with an amused little smile. “Very well done.”

As Michael cheered triumphantly, scrambling down to brag to Ray and Gavin, Jack sent a grateful nod over his head to the crewman still pushing and lifting crates. The man just grinned, winked, and got back to work.

  
  


-

  
  


Two hours later and the inside of Ryan's ship was bustling; the amount of cargo lined against walls slowly decreasing as workers moved crates and boxes around to wherever they needed to go. Jon seemed to have taken charge of direction, oddly knowledgable on where things needed to be brought for someone who had only known they were coming on the trip for nine hours.

“I'm a butler and I helped Ryan make the blueprints for this monstrosity,” he replied briskly to Jack's inquiry. “I'm not really doing much besides telling people where things need to go, which is essentially a butler's job description condensed into one line.”

“You helped Ryan build this?” Jack asked in surprise.

“I helped him _design_ it. Of course I did. The man only sees the big picture; he never works in details. He very nearly forgot to put in a bathroom.”

“ _It was one time, Jon, let it go!”_

Geoff, meanwhile, was eyeing the still rather overwhelming number of boxes with a frown.

“Ryan, I get being prepared and all, but don't you think that this many boxes is a bit...much? How long do you even plan for us to be gone?”

“I have no idea!” the man replied cheerfully, not even glancing back at him as he checked the contents of an unmarked crate to determine where it'd go.

“...Wait, come again?”

“Haven't the faintest!” he said again. “The ocean is absolutely _vast,_ Geoff. I have no idea how deep we'll be going, how long it will take us to get wherever we're going. I do not know where we're going besides down! That's the adventure!”

He grinned cheerfully.

“...Let me get this straight. You do not even have a fraction of an idea how long we'll be gone? A relative window for guide purposes? It's completely in the air?”

“We could gone ten weeks or ten years!” Ryan cackled.

“...” Geoff leaned heavily against the wall, closing his eyes and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. “...One of these days, Haywood, you're going to actually put me in an early grave.”

Ryan only laughed merrily, lifting another box to carry out.

  
  


-

  
  


Ryan grinned as the party clustered up behind him, Jack and Geoff holding their respective charges in their arms and Jon holding Ray on his hip. Ryan had no issues with being showy as he started to flip switches and press buttons, practically swelling with pride and excitement. All three of the kids were squirming a bit, trying to lean over arms to see the dashboard of the ship.

And suddenly the ship started to hum, dull and low; and the floor under their feet shook with vibrations. Everyone but Ryan jumped, Geoff even shrieking a bit and arms tightening around Gavin.

Ryan actually _giggled_ , face shining with pure, unmatched glee.

“Is it...supposed to be doing that?” Jack asked nervously.

“Of course it is!” Ryan cackled. “The whole thing is at work you know! Every part of it!”

His fingers hovered over a button, and he turned back to positively beam at them.

“Are we ready, men?” he whispered, voice suddenly soft with anticipation as he looked over each of them.

He did, after all, want them to be just as excited as he was.

Jack and Geoff glanced at each other, the latter swallowing a bit nervously. Michael, Gavin, and Ray were all wiggling and cheering in excitement; but Jon was just grinning with Ryan.

Geoff looked back at Ryan, sighed, and cracked a rather nervous smile.

“Ready as we'll ever be, I suppose.”

Ryan grin widened joyfully, swirled his finger dramatically, and the pressed the button under it with an absolutely anticlimactic gentleness. The ship rumbled, shifted; and with a sudden, unexpected lurch that had everyone but Ryan stumbling to hold on to something, the ship disconnected from the dock and started to sink down.

“WE'RE FALLING!” Michael wailed, grabbing the shoulder of Jack's shirt and tugging it.

“We're _sinking,_ ” Ryan corrected gleefully. “And that is the point after all!”

Gavin was making incomprehensible squawking noises and clinging to the neck of Geoff, who was in turn clinging to the free arm of Jack, who quite frankly just looked rather exasperated with the whole situation.

“Geoff will you stop screaming in my ear? We aren't even sinking that _fast._ ”

Geoff's shrieking trailed off, eyes opening to look forward to the window, where they were in fact only falling at a rather slow pace. Ryan laughed brightly, wiggling.

“And we aren't sinking for long! FORWARD!”

He pushed a lever, and the ship rumbled and groaned, and suddenly shot forward at a steadily rising pace. Ryan's eyes lit up, grin stretching wide as they moved into deeper, clearer blue.

“We're doing it!! WE'RE GOING!!!”

His joy was contagious, and it wasn't five minutes before the rest of his group was grinning as well, leaning over his shoulders to stare out into the bubbles and bright blue. They were sinking steadily deeper, further away from the shores and docks, and it wasn't long before...

“FISH!!” Michael yelled, pointing wildly at the window.

A yellow and black angelfish swam in front of them, swirling a bit in the bubbles of their current, and that was the catalyst. Soon enough the view of the glass screen was full of color; tiny and large fish keeping enough of a distance from this strange loud Thing that had invaded their waters, but gradually getting closer as the ship moved deeper. No one but Ryan even realized how long they actually stood there, enraptured with the creatures swimming across their view.

Ryan grinned. He had _known_ they'd love it.

After about an hour, Ryan shifted some levers and dials, and stood.

“Now then,” he said, clapping his hands eagerly. “We should be good to drift as I've set for a few hours at least. Shall we go unpack and begin to get settled in?”

There was a general noise of consensus, though the kids seemed reluctant to leave behind the ever-changing view. Ryan knew it wouldn't last long—kids didn't have the longest of attention spans after all, and he had to distract them before they lost interest.

Kids scrambled down from caretakers' arms to run down the hall, racing to be the first ones into their claimed bunks. Gavin—to the surprise of everyone but Geoff—won that match, squealing gleefully as he crashed in and bounded onto the bunk on the left side of the room. Geoff walked in leisurely after, dropping onto his bed with a sly grin.

“Think you got here fast enough, Gav?”

He giggled, bouncing a bit. He looked around, eyes big and wide as he stared around the room. At the foot of their bunks were a bunch of full suitcases, and Geoff pushed his in the general direction of the closet set into the wall before flopping back into the bed with a content sigh.

“Finally, I can go to sleep,” he groaned, eyes closing.

And then a heavy ball landed on his stomach, and he yelped, glaring down at his giggling kid.

“Gavin!” he whined.

Gavin grinned, beaming down at him.

“Daddy,” he said excitedly. “Daddy, we're going on an adventure!!”

Geoff laughed tiredly, head smacking against the pillow again.

“Yeah buddy, we are.”

“We're gonna see so many cool new things, and and go new places and make new friends!”

Geoff wasn't quite sure how honest that would be, but he nodded along tiredly, patting Gavin's back.

“And this ship is so cool and BIG and we're gonna explore and Ray-Ray knows a bunch of cool stuff about it and--”

Geoff yawned, smiling a bit.

“And and Daddy, I have a BED!”

Geoff's eyes snapped open, smile freezing on his face.

“I have a bed! And and Jack and Mr. Jon are gonna cook and we're gonna get to eat!! All the time!!”

Geoff swallowed, starting to sit up slowly.

Gavin grinned up at him. “You get to sleep in a bed too!! And now no one is gonna yell at you for being outside all the time and and--”

Suddenly, Geoff's arms wrapped tight around him, holding him close.

Gavin faltered a bit.

“Daddy? That's a good thing right?”

Geoff nodded, slowly, into his hair.

“...Yeah lad. It is. It's really good.”

He pulled back, smiling again at him, and pulling him in to ruffle his hair playfully. Gavin squawked, laughing and trying to squirm away.

“So good, I wanna try out my cool new bed _right now_!! Good night.”

He flopped back, letting out a loud, dramatic snore.

“Daddyyyyyyy!!!” Gavin laughed, trying to wiggle away from the tight grip around him. Geoff didn't let go, biting back his smile.

Gavin giggled and wiggled, finally settling down into a more comfortable ball against his father. He wiggled one more time, leaning up to kiss Geoff's cheek softly.

“G'night, Daddy. When you wake up, you can start getting happy too.”

He closed his eyes with a yawn, sighing as he let himself start to fall asleep.

Geoff was just glad he closed his eyes before he noticed the tears starting to gather in his father's.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I honest to god would like to say that there's a really good reason for this length of a wait but really, inspiration for it migrated to stuff and every time I tried to write it it just wouldn't come.
> 
> UNTIL TODAY.
> 
> also real life hit me hard, like a truck. so much stuff in the last few months; holidays, birthdays
> 
> an actual truck.
> 
> yeah i was in a car crash. so i wasnt moving for a bit.
> 
> BUT NOW MOVING NO LONGER HURTS AND INPIRATION IS BACK AND I ACTUALLY WANT TO WRITE A LOT NOW AND AS SOON AS THIS IS UP I'M GONNA BE GOING AND TRYING TO WRITE MORE OF THE OTHER TWO STORIES I STARTED WHILE I WAS GONE?
> 
> speaking of which, the baby au is a series now. theres magic babies and fake ah babies. u should check it out if u like this one. and also Mattie drew loads of awesome stuff for fake ah. seriously its great


End file.
